Theresa
by acalanto
Summary: AU, Scotch pairing. Canon until Season 2. Co-written with JOYS OF OCTOBER. The past leaves marks that even time may not erase. Tom makes a tragic mistake that costs him everything he holds dear. Will Rachel be able to save him from his own personal hell?
1. The Letter

A/N This is a new fanfic of Tom & Rachel (Scotch). As English is not my native language, I have joined forces with JOYS of October for this story. This is our joint writing project. This is an AU story with bits of references from Season 2. Rated T for adult scenes & references.

* * *

 **The Letter**

A man runs on the beach, feeling the soft sand beneath his feet, the morning breeze and the smell of the sea. The sight of the sea can always calm his thoughts and give him a sense of peace. He slows down the pace when he sees the wooden walkway leading to his house. A few more steps and he sees the house. His refuge some years ago.

A two-storey white house in the middle of trees, with a wooden walkway leading down to a private beach. The dream for anyone who wants isolation and comfort. His choice was based on the first reason. And also because he's an idiot who likes to torture himself.

Upon reaching the back door, he wipes his feet on the mat and walks through the kitchen, his nose drawn to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. He's usually out of bed by 5:00am, sometimes earlier than that. The first thing he does is to brew a pot of coffee and cook a hearty breakfast.

He feels a presence in the house and his hand automatically goes to the gun he carries. He lives alone.

Although in civilian clothes, his posture was still intimidating. His exile made him even more unpredictable, lethal and dangerous to enemies. His visitor decided to announce himself. It would not be good to be mistaken for an enemy.

"Relax, my friend, it's me." Said a familiar voice.

"Mike… Do you want to be shot? You should have warned me you were coming…" Tom said while to puts the gun on the table.

"It's good to see you, too, old friend. If you had left the radio on, I might have tried…" Mike says ironically and hugged his friend.

Tom rolled his eyes and returned the hug. When they separated, Tom walked over to the coffee maker and poured into two cups. He was trying to postpone this conversation as much as possible.

Tom pulled up a chair and sat down and Mike followed suit, sitting in front of him. He leaned against in his chair, sipping his coffee silently as he watched Mike do the same, doing his best to keep his posture relaxed. But he felt a sense of frustration and irritation, because he knows Mike could be as stubborn as him when he wants something _._ An unexpected visit could only represent problems, the kind that he wants to keep away.

Mike looked at his friend, thinking of the best way to talk about her, but he knew there is nothing he can do to lessen the blow that this news would bring. Physically, he had not changed a lot. He was shaved and his silver hair was cut military style, his body was in shape due to daily exercises. Psychologically, it was another story… his eyes had changed, empty, dead.

"You were running, I presume." Mike said.

"As you know, running and swimming relaxes me. Don't worry, according to the doctor, I'm a very healthy man for my age. I don't think you've come all this way to talk about my health. What brings you here?" He finally asked.

"Why will I need a special reason to visit my old friend?" Mike retorted

"I know when you're hiding something from me. Just spit it out!"

"Tom, Rachel contacted me recently." Tom hardened visibly when he heard the name. "She wants to talk to you. She says it's very important."

"Let me be clear. She's dead. D-E-A-D. I accepted this fact years ago when I cut off all ties with my past. Rachel and I have absolutely nothing to talk about. She's part of a past that I have already buried in forgetfulness and..."

"Stop it," Mike cuts him off. "The problems do not disappear because you run away from them, Tom. You need to live again, my friend, you cannot be a prisoner of this pain forever."

"We've talked about it thousands of times before. I will not go back. I already fulfilled my duty and the price was too high, I've lost everything I've ever loved. Nothing else interests me, nor does she…"

"You are lying to yourself, if that was true you would not have chosen this house in particular. Although you deny it, you're still in love with her."

Unexpectedly Tom was reminded when he and Rachel... Shaking his head, he murmurs to himself. "Get out of my head, dammit!" He rose from his chair as if suddenly he could not stand still and took some nervous steps through the room. The real Rachel never liked to obey orders; the one who lives in his memories does not either. The memories keep flooding back his mind, the softness of her mouth, skin on skin, the warmth of her body in his arms….

"Stop, dammit it! Just stop." Tom screamed with an edge of despair in his voice.

Mike looks at his friend's aggressive posture with interest. Aggressiveness is a defense mechanism. His words touched a raw nerve. Before he could say anything, Tom spoke again.

"You can deduce whatever you want, I don't care. Go back and tell her, that you tried, but the answer is **NO**."

A little exasperated, Mike says, "You're making me dizzy walking in circles like that. Please sit down. "

Tom looked at Mike and his aggression deflated because he knows that the anger he feels is not for Mike but for himself. Regaining control over his emotions, he simply sits back on his chair again.

"I'm sorry. To be honest, I wasn't screaming at you, I just..."

"I know. In the shadows dwell memories that are sometimes good and painful at the same time. We have been friends for a long time and…"

"Why you still have not given up on me? I'm not an easy person to be with."

"Because friends do not give up when the door is closed. They hit the loudest, tell the truths that people do not want to hear, to beg if necessary, but give up, never."

"There is nothing worth saving here, maybe you should give up."

"Forget it! It will not happen," replied Mike in a solemn tone. "I will always be here for you; always…now that the door is open, I have a mission to fulfill." then, Mike reached into his inside breast pocket and took out an envelope. "She sent you a letter," he says, putting the envelope on the table, within reach of his friend's fingers.

His first impulse was to rip the envelope into tiny pieces without reading its content and mail the pieces back to Rachel or simply open the door and scatter the shreds to the wind.

"We don't ́t need any accidents." Mike says, and takes the gun from the table, putting it in his coat pocket.

Tom shook his head and smiled sarcastically. "Should I feel insulted by your lack of faith in me or in the fact that you think she can still affect me?"

"I never lost my faith in you, but I wouldn't bet against her, too. She has the habit of surprising people. As for the weapon, I know you would never use it on yourself, but on the windows, that's another story."

"You have not forgotten that, have you? It's been so long. It happened in this house. When the journalist made the mistake of breaking inside my house, I shot the windows to scare him. The idiot thought that he was going to get the biggest scoop of his career. At least after that, I did not have any other unwanted guests."

Mike remembers the incident and how the journalist in question sold the story as if it were a trophy. How he had entered the lair of the beast and survived to tell the story. ' _Suddenly I heard the click of a gun's safety being removed. I looked around and I saw the Captain pointing a gun at me. I tried to negotiate, but he didn't say a word. Man, it was like looking into the eyes of death. I was lucky that I came out alive."_

"You shot him several times, he was terrified. He really thought you wanted to kill him, but luckily, you missed. At least that's what he thinks. I know you're an excellent marksman."

"After he left, I had to clean up the mess he left behind. The idiot got so scared he wet his pants." He said with contempt.

"You, my friend can be downright scary when you want to."

"Good. Fear keeps the unwanted guests away." Tom responded, without touching the letter. He knows that he is only trying to delay the inevitable and by the look on Mike's face, he already noticed that, too.

Rising from his chair, Mike says, ''I'll leave you alone. I'll wait for you outside. Look, just do me this one favor - do not tear the letter down before reading."

In response to Tom's raised eyebrows, Mike says, "I know you very well. You are thinking of ripping this envelope to a thousand pieces. If you do that, you'll never know the truth, think about it," he says before he walks out of the kitchen, sliding the door closed behind him.

Tom turned the envelope between his fingers, thinking that this letter might represent the answer to his questions. Maybe he can put the last of his demons to rest.

He took a deep breath and opened the envelope, slipping his fingers inside and pulling out the letter.

He started to read, in the second paragraph he stopped. "I misunderstood," he murmured, and then he read it again and felt his blood boil, "God! She did not do it!"

He forced himself to read it until the last line and he when had finished, he rose from his chair, left the letter on the table, and approached the window from he where could enjoy the beautiful view outside. But he could only see his own reflection on the glass. He looked directly into the eyes of a man tortured by pain. He thought that nothing could hurt him again. He was wrong. She could.

Mike is startled to hear the noise of something being broken. He turned in time to see his friend take his hand off the broken window glass.

"Damn her," Tom shouted, furious. His hand closes about on a cup that is on the table and throws it hard on the wall.

Mike re-entered the kitchen and his eyes met with Tom's tormented ones "Tom, what happened? Are you okay?"

The question was rhetorical, it was apparent that Tom was not well. He had broken a glass window with his fist and his eyes showed a fury that Mike had seen a few times before.

"Tom, calm down. Take slow, deep breaths and concentrate on your breathing," He says, trying to bring his friend to reason.

"I don't want to calm down, I want to hit something." He shouted, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger

"If I thought that letting you break the whole house would help, I would let you do that, but we both know that this would not solve anything. Talk to me."

"Read the damn letter and then tell me if I have no reason to be angry." Tom says and throws another cup on the wall.

"Tom, where is the first aid kit? I really think you need…"

"Read the letter, damn it!" Tom demanded.

"Okay, okay. What should I read? The letter is something very personal, maybe you should just tell me what…"

"Read the damn letter." Tom practically growls. He needs to make sure he is not crazy and she actually wrote what he thinks she wrote.

Mike took the letter and started reading, keeping his friend under surveillance in his peripheral vision. He kept walking like a caged tiger, but at least he was no longer throwing things at the wall.

When he reads the second paragraph, he smiled with satisfaction. He does not need to read anything else. He was happy to know that she could be the answer to his prayers. Because now he saw more excitement in Tom than he had seen in several years. If before his eyes were dead, now they had a focus.

"Due to everything that's happened, keeping this little secret was best for her own safety. Being close to you at that time was a risk and you know it."

Tom spoke softly, but audibly. "So I'm not crazy." He knew Mike was right, but his anger would not permit him to consider that. "Wonderful! She lies and it's my fault. The enemy has been neutralized for years. She has no right to hide this information from me."

"I understand your anger, I do, but she may have some explanation for having hidden this information from you. Things were complicated at the time. You were married man, remember?"

"Really?" Tom asks in a voice full of bitterness. "Do you want to talk about my marriage _?" I have not forgotten anything, although sometimes I wish I could._

"I'm sorry, I know how painful it is for you speak about your marriage. As for Rachel, I'm not justifying what she did, but she deserves a chance to explain herself."

"Well, what do you know? You, of all people, defending Rachel? As far as I can remember, you do not trust her."

"The way I see it, she has my respect and my friendship. She worked hard for it. We're alive because of her. Tom, she saved your life twice." And can save it again, Mike thought to himself.

"I know why she hid this information from me. Rachel has not changed at all. She is still a pathological liar and still playing games with me."

"Rachel is not like ..." Mike stopped when he saw the look of pain on his friend. "Sorry. This may be your second chance."

"Not everyone deserves a second chance, but I don't want to talk about it now. Where is Rachel? Is she in the US?" Tom asked. The last time he heard of her, she was in Africa. As a daughter of missionary parents, she spent most of her childhood traveling. She knew the African and Asian continents well; she even knew how to speak several of their dialects. Although she was the most famous person on the planet, she has managed to hide successfully during all these years.

"I do not really know where she is. I did not have a chance to do an investigation on the subject. I left people I trust by taking care of the case. My guess is that she did not come back. She promised to call me. Sit down and let me have a look at your hand."

"It's just a scratch; it will not kill me to lose some blood. I have survived worse things."

"I know, I was there, remember? Where is the first aid kit?" He asks again.

"The box is in the closet of the bathroom, second drawer on the left." He says and sits on the chair, feeling suddenly drained. While waiting for Mike to come back with the first aid kit, his mind took him to those first few days aboard the Nathan James and for the woman who has turned his life upside down. The woman he cannot forget no matter how hard he tries, the woman who is as much a part of him as the blood that runs in his veins.

Because of her, he has betrayed his principles. Because of her, he had done things that he never imagined that he would be able to do. Because of her, his marriage ended in the most tragic way possible. On that day, he had lost his ability to love. At least, that's what he says to himself when the memories threaten to choke him.

The worst prison is the mind and his has more monsters than he can handle at times. Chained monsters, but not always silent.

Although he denies himself, his feelings for her remains in his heart. In a place where he keeps the sweetest, most intense, and at the same time, painful memories of his life. _Why did you have to come back into my life? Why, Rachel?_

Mike came back with the first aid kit; he placed the kit on the table, and sat down on the chair beside him. "Give me your hand," he demands

"What? Without dinner before?" Tom asked

Mike smiles as he realizes that at least his friend's good mood has returned. Something more to thank her for. If he had to describe his friend in a word, sullen, would be appropriate. "What were you thinking?" He says, while cleaning the wound and beginning to do the dressing.

"I wasn't thinking. I just reacted. She can awaken the worst in me, "he says as he sucked in a breath when he felt pain in his hand due to decreased adrenaline and the sting of antiseptics.

"Next time, hit something soft…Or do not hit anything."

"Duly noted." Tom replied.

"Well, it's not perfect, but at least it stopped bleeding. You were lucky, that injury could have been serious."

Tom took a deep breath and flexed his sore fingers. "Thank you, Mike."

"Any time. Tom, what do you want to do? What do I say when she calls tomorrow?"

"You're not going to say anything." Then suddenly, Tom got up from his chair, headed up the stairs, and walked toward the bedroom and Mike followed him. He watched Tom put some clothes in a backpack

"Where are you going?" Mike asked

"I'm coming back with you. She owes me explanations and this time she will not run away like the last time."

Mike's biggest wish was to get his friend out of that self-imposed exile, but as the Captain of The Last Ship, he would be chased, photographed. The press was going to watch him like a rare species of an animal in a zoo and he would hate each minute.

"Are you sure you are prepared for this? If the press finds out that you are back…"

"I'm aware of what can happen. I will be treated like a specimen under a microscope. I have no alternative. If I talk to one of them, it will be on my terms. Why don't you have another coffee while I take a shower and change my clothes. Do not worry I will not wet the bandage, Dr. Slattery."

Mike went back to the kitchen. He picked up the pieces of the broken cups, cleaned the blood off the floor and waited. Ten minutes later, Tom appeared fully dressed, a cap on his head, blue jeans, gray T-shirt, black jacket and black tennis shoes, sunglasses in his left hand.

He folded the letter and put it in the envelope. Then he put the letter in his inside jacket pocket.

"Thanks for cleaning up the mess. I'm ready. Before we head out, I need you to give me back my gun." He said while extending his right hand.

"You do not need the gun. We can guarantee your safety." Mike said while handing the gun back to its owner.

"I need it in case I have to shoot some journalist."

"Good joke."

"Who said I'm kidding?" He says as he walks out the door and Mike follows him worriedly.

When the two were side by side, they made their way to the beach where the boat awaits them. Mike asks again, "Please, tell me you're joking about the journalist."

A grim expression was the answer before him as Tom puts on his sunglasses.

Tom looked down at his bandaged hand, thinking that she is still able to make him lose control. His bandaged hand rests for a minute over the pocket where the letter is, and then he remembered every word she has written.

 _Tom,_

 _You must be wondering why after so many years I decided to write to you. The first thing you should know is that I'll love you until my last breath._

 _You and I never had a chance; unfortunately, not all stories have a happy ending. What we had was just an instant, an instant where we have become one. You gave me something, a part of you stayed with me. I got pregnant that night, Tom; we have a daughter. I gave our baby the name of Theresa. She inherited your eyes and your stubbornness._

 _I know that now you must be furious, because I have omitted something so important from you. Forgive me. I have taken from you important moments of her life, the first time she opened her eyes, her first smile, her first steps, her first word ... I had her past, but you will have her future._

 _It was selfish of me, I know, but in my defense, I did not want to put you in the position of choosing between your wife and me. I decided it for you._ _Because in my heart I knew who you would choose._

 _I knew how much you loved your wife. You made that very clear the following morning._ _So I disappeared from your life. I could not bear the idea of having you, only as my daughter's father. I wanted more, much more._

 _Our daughter is a good girl, strong, independent, intelligent. As a mother, I am biased towards her. But you will soon be able to see with your own eyes. I have no doubt that you will be a wonderful father._

 _It wasn't my intention to hurt her our daughter. I've told her a lot about the mission, about you, but talking about you only made your absence more painful for her. Maybe now you two can connect as father and daughter._

 _Forgive me for not telling you sooner about our daughter. I hope you can forgive me someday_ _._

 _Rachel_

For years, his existence has been empty, meaningless and hopeless, an aching emptiness that nothing can fill.

Now a child and her mother dare to pluck him out of his self-imposed exile to condemn him to hope. Theresa, only a name but already provokes strong emotions in him. He does not know if he will cry like a child or laugh like a fool in the face of a possibility to have a baby in his arms again.

He feels his heart open to that wonderful feeling that is to love again. It is like feeling the warmth of the sun after having lived years in complete darkness. He doesn't know if he's prepared to deal with it. If he will be completely honest with himself, he is terrified.

Mike smiles to himself as he watches his friend with his hand over the pocket of his jacket. He asks himself if Tom noticed that the letter rests on the left side above his heart, probably not.

The Captain of the Last Ship and the Scientist who made the cure would be reunited once more. He just hoped they will not kill themselves before they solved their problems. Of one thing, Mike is sure of, the meeting between Tom and Rachel is going to be explosive. Their friends deserve a second chance and Mike would do everything in his power to help them have it.


	2. The Right Decision

A/N We wanted to thank everyone for the reviews, follows and favs. The support means a lot.

* * *

 **The Right Decision**

As a soldier, he learned to sleep anywhere and wake up fast and alert. In the field, this makes the difference between life and death. Although he wore no uniform, deep-rooted habits were difficult to abandon.

When he opened his eyes and looked at his watch, he realized with surprise that he had slept for almost an hour. Full of caffeine, anxious, still digesting what Rachel had written to him, he thought he would not be able to sleep.

Sitting in the chair next him on the private jet, Mike asks, "We're almost there. Are you prepared for this?"

Taking a deep breath, he responds honestly. "No, I know that coming back will reopen old wounds." The familiar pain stabbed Tom's heart to think about what he had lost. Normally he was a master at hiding his feelings, but today they are closer to the surface. Some of his pain must have shown, because Mike looked at him with concern engraved on his features.

"You're not alone. You can always count on me."

"I know. I will always be grateful to you for the help during the most painful period of my life. But unfortunately there are certain things I will have to deal with alone. In fact, there's something bothering me. Why did she decide to tell me about my daughter now? What if something is wrong? What if my daughter is sick? "

"If Theresa were ill, Rachel would have told me, it would be another argument to convince you to come back."

"You're right. I'm looking for problems that do not exist. I wonder what my daughter will look like? Rachel could have sent a picture."

"Rachel wants to keep her daughter's identity a secret. Think about it, if the letter had fallen into the wrong hands, they will only have vague information and a name. Many children were named Scott after the pandemic. What better way to hide Theresa's identity?"

"Theresa Scott. It is likely that my daughter does not have my last name. You're right again. When I hear her name, I see red. I can't think objectively and I end up acting like an idiot."

"You're not an idiot," Mike said gently, "You're just anxious and worried about finding your daughter for the first time. Don't you worry, children are naturally open, and have no difficulty in giving and receiving affection."

"The problem is not whether she will love me. The question is whether I still have the ability to love. I changed, something broke here inside my chest, and maybe I cannot fix the broken parts."

Mike looked at his friend with concern. Some memories could haunt a man all his life and Tom's past was full of them.

"Tom, you have to stop torturing yourself! You are not responsible for what has happened. It was not your fault. It's time to move on."

"We both know that's not true." His family became the target because his enemy wanted to hurt, manipulate and destroy him. Then Tom closed his eyes, effectively ending the conversation.

Tom thought he deserved to suffer for failing to protect what was most precious to him. No one had been able to dissuade him from this idea. Mike hoped that Theresa could do that. If the little one had inherited half the stubbornness of her parents, his friend stood no chance. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes too. It was going to be a long trip and it was just beginning.

Tom could almost hear his friend's thoughts. He was worried. To be honest with himself, so was he. Mike was a good friend, always been around, even tried to warn him about his mistakes, but he was blind trying to do the right thing.

 _Flashback_

 _Tom really needed to talk to someone about what was tormenting him. He knew that his friend was home alone, because Mike's wife, Christina, and their two daughters were in Tom's house. A kind of celebration for the pregnancy of his wife, few guests, minimal decorations. It's a good thing it was a women-only gathering so he had left home without having to give explanations._

 _The door opened as soon as he reached the doorstep and the owner of the house beckoned for him to enter. He came in and threw himself into a chair._

" _Are you okay?"_

" _I wish that I could turn back time and change everything. I wish I could just disappear, and never come back. No, I'm not fine." Tom replied in anguish._

 _Mike looked at his friend, uncertain what to say. He had never seen Tom this way, so lost, so full of pain and despair. Sometimes he feared that the worst would happen._ _A lot had happened in the last few months in Tom's life. He had lost his father and his children and miraculously a woman had returned to his life. The loss of his children would always be a source of pain. But right now, something told him that the source of his friend's anguish was Rachel Scott._

" _Do you want coffee or something stronger?"_

" _Surprise me," Tom replied._

 _Mike went into the kitchen and came back with two bottles of beer. He handed one to his friend and sat on a chair in front of him. Mike watched Tom take several gulps of his beer while he does the same._

" _Why don't you tell me what the problem is? I'm sure you'll feel really better after you get it off your chest."_

" _I should be happy. I have a beautiful wife, we're going to have a baby, but the only thing I feel is anguish. I'm married, but I wish I was not."_

" _Height of 1.68m, with brown hair and eyes. Your anguish has a name. The world knows her as Dr. Scott. The scientist who saved millions of lives, for you she's just_ _ **Rachel**_ _. You two had a very strong connection even from the beginning. This connection did not disappear even when you thought she was dead."_

" _I was attracted to her, but there was nothing between us at that time._ _Although my marriage to Darien was already in crisis, as you know, she wanted a divorce; I loved her and never betrayed her."_

 _Tom hoped Darien would change her mind, but her death ended the hopes of a reconciliation._

" _I know, Tom. What has changed?"_

" _My feelings changed. I thought that the distance, my second marriage would lessen the attraction I feel for her, but when I saw her again, that spark between us was there, the attraction between us was as strong as ever. I needed to feel alive again."_

" _You slept with Rachel?"_

" _Yeah…"_

" _I am not surprised that you two slept together. What surprises me is that it took so long. It's called sexual tension for a reason and you were an easy prey."_

" _She did not take advantage of me," he said indignantly, "It was exactly the opposite."_

" _I'm not criticizing either of you. I meant that you were an easy prey of your desires, desires that you repressed for so long. In normal circumstances, you would have thought before acting. As for Rachel, as far as I know her, she would not do anything she did not want, not even for you."_

" _I know, but I cannot get rid of the feeling that I used her to feel better. I just thought of myself, I was selfish, irresponsible."_

" _Why did you sleep with her? This is the question you should ask yourself." Mike snapped._

" _Because I…I…having Rachel naked in my arms was better than any fantasy, I admit. But it was not just sex. What I feel for her, I only felt once before in my life."_

" _I don't think I need to tell you what it means." Mike said softly._

" _No. I know I love Rachel, but I can't give her what she needs, what she deserves. We talked and she understood that I needed to get back to my wife. I felt like a bastard."_

" _Rachel just said what you wanted to hear. Although she loves you, she is a strong, proud, and independent woman. She would never beg for crumbs of your affection."_

" _Why do you think she loves me?"_ _Tom asked Mike._

" _For an intelligent man, you can be rather obtuse when it comes to Rachel._ _It's obvious that you two love each other._ _The way you two look at each other it was as if nobody was around."_

" _I need to be extra careful when I'm near her."_

 _Mike gave his friend an exasperated look. "Since your wife has returned, you are feeling guilty. Tell me something. Do you intend to divorce her?"_

" _I can't, my wife is carrying my child. I cannot leave her now when she needs me most. My child needs me, too."_

" _You would still be a father, even divorced."_

" _No, I will not be a weekend father. My marriage may been for the wrong reasons. I did not get married for love and I never hid it from my wife. But I like her." Tom said._

" _A woman hopes to be loved. Although she seems to accept this arrangement from you. She married expecting your feelings for her to change._ _Now that you've had a taste of what it could be, it will be very difficult to settle for the harsh reality."_

" _A relationship need not always be intense and ravishing. I'm not a boy in love with my first girlfriend. I'm resolved not to let myself get carried away by my emotions. My wife and I can build a relationship based on respect and friendship. Love can take other forms. "_

" _If you want to keep your marriage, do not tell your wife that you went to bed with Rachel."_

" _I'm just waiting for the right moment. I cannot lie to her about it."_

" _Why not? You'll lie about something infinitely more important." Mike said sarcastically._

" _Mike..." Tom says, and the exasperation is his voice is clear._

" _Are you sure this is what you want? Think carefully. Do not do something you will regret later."_

 _"It's not what I want, it's what I need to do. I love Rachel, but distancing myself from her is the right decision."_

" _Tom, sometimes I wish you were less honorable. You would suffer less."_

" _Mike, you're quoting from the movies."_

" _It does not change the fact that I'm right._ _Do you want another beer?"_

Tom was brought to the present when he heard the pilot advise them to fasten their seat belts because they would soon be landing.

He thanked the pilots and asked them to convey their thanks to the owner of private jet, Jeffrey Michener. When he stepped off, he was relieved to see that they had landed at a private hangar and a car was waiting for them already.

Suddenly, he felt as if he were being watched. His stance became rigid and he let his eyes scan the area around them. Nothing out of the ordinary jumped at him. Only a cat lying lazily on top of a pile of boxes that were stacked a few steps away.

"Something wrong?" Mike asked.

"No. Let's get out of here," he replied.

He opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat. While he buckled his seat belt, Mike sat in the driver's seat and did the same.

"Ready?" Mike asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be." He said, unable to shake the feeling of being watched.

The two men hiding behind the boxes breathed a sigh of relief when the car pulled away.

"You saw his look if he found out that we were here. We would be dead. Man, I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley."

"But he did not find out. What matters is that my source was right. This photo can make my career take off and if I find out why he came back, the sky's the limit for me."

"Have you ever heard that when you pursue the devil, you can get lost in hell?" the other man asked.

The man that he was able to photograph was dressed in dark clothes, with a cold and hard look on him. But beyond the initial appearance, there was an air of underlying loneliness around him.


	3. Norfolk

**Author's Notes:** Thank you for all those who have left reviews, favorited and followed this story. We hope you enjoy reading our story as much as we enjoy imagining and writing about Scotch.

* * *

 **Norfolk**

Sitting in the dark, he watched through the window the thin rain that had not stopped falling since his arrival. The trip had been long, tiresome, but at last, he was back where everything had begun, Norfolk Naval Station.

Mike had decided to return home after finding his wife and daughters. He just agreed to come to his friend's house because he knew Mike's wife and his two daughters were traveling. Now he was waiting for Mike to come back from the command center.

Some only knew the legend about the captain of the last ship, a myth built around a lie. He had neither the patience nor the will to be kind and to feed this myth. It's not that he hate people, but human interactions do not attract him at all, not surprising, given his isolation for so long.

He knows that he will have to improve in this aspect, since he will have to interact with a child. Daughter, for him the word is bittersweet. In the last hours, small things have provoked in him powerful and at the same time, painful emotions. Words, smells, even the rain falling outside of the window.

For years, he tried to keep his past locked, but in the last few hours, the memories insisted on returning. He is aware that returning to his former home would be a powerful trigger to reopen old wounds and dig up memories.

"A storm is coming, Dad, "Tom whispers as flashes of lightning raced across the sky, illuminating his tormented face for a second.

He passes a hand on his face, wiping a solitary tear and lets his mind lead him back into the past.

Flashback.

 _"Dad..."_

 _"Son._ _A storm is coming, why is your wife not with you?"_ _He asked when he noticed the absence of his daughter-in-law._

 _"She had a job to finish at the base. We have decided to keep away from each other, for now."_

 _"Did you two have a fight?" It was more of a statement rather than a question. The tense posture of the son and his words pointed toward that direction._

 _Jed watched Tom sit and then he answer the question._

" _Yeah, we fought. Lately, she insists on talking about a subject that for me is solved, on which I do not intend to talk about," Tom replied._

" _Rachel." Jed said with a sigh. "Son, it is natural that your wife is curious about Rachel. You and Rachel have a history together, working side by side to find a cure; you two have gained legendary status." However, Jed had a suspicion that the curiosity of his daughter-in-law was motivated by other reasons._

 _"She did not want to talk about Dr. Scott the_ _scientist. She_ _wants to talk about the_ _woman,_ _about my relationship with_ _her._ _As much as I have said that there was no romantic relationship between us or any relationship for that matter, she insists on talking about her. I'm getting tired of it." He said running his hand through his hair in frustration._

 _"Answer me one thing, do you love your wife?" his father asked._

 _"I .. I married her, I think that answers your question, Dad. She's an amazing woman, we have much in common and she understands my work, she is helping me a lot," Tom explained._

" _I love her" would be the correct answer, Jed thought. For him, loneliness had spoken louder and his son had committed one of the biggest mistakes of his life. Because Tom could not love his wife because his heart was already occupied._

 _"When you think of Rachel," Jed started._

 _"Not you, too, Dad! It's bad enough that my wife wants to talk about Dr. Scott every two seconds!" Tom complained tiredly._

 _Dr. Scott. His son could not even pronounce her name._

 _"You'll excuse me, son, but even the soldiers killed during the war had a memorial service, a kind of closure to those who remained. She had nothing, no ceremony, no tombstone with her name. You do not even speak about her. It's as if Rachel never existed. She deserves more than that and you know it."_

 _"We have no time to mourn the dead in a war, we have to move on. All we can do is to work to preserve her legacy to the world. The lives she saved and the lives that can still be saved."_

 _When looking at his father, Tom realized that he did not agree with his words. It was not the first time that Jed Chandler made clear his dissatisfaction with the treatment given to the person he considered a hero._

 _"And you're okay with that? To forget so fast?"_

 _I have not forgotten her, how could I? Tom thought. If it were possible, she remains as a reminder to him of an open wound that still bleeds when pressed. When he looks in the mirror and see the scar, it is like a permanent reminder that she saved his life and he was not able to do the same to her._

 _Aloud, he said, exasperated. "I have not forgotten anything, she deserved to live, but life is not a fairy tale, people die, and there is nothing I can do about it. People around me, they think they know what I feel or how I should feel. The truth is I do not even know. There was never anything between us and that sometimes is a blessing and a curse because sometimes I can forgive myself, but I cannot forget. Everyone reminding me all the time does not help._

 _"Your wife is beginning to realize the mistake she made. She cannot compete against such a strong opponent, Rachel's ghost." Jed stated softly._

 _"What? Did you talk to her about it? Because she told me she could not compete with a ghost, with the memories I have of ... Dr. Scott is very important to me, a brilliant scientist, a brave friend who saved my life. But she was not perfect, she lied to me, she killed a man in cold blood for revenge, she was as stubborn as hell. She used to do things her way."_

 _"You say you're confused about your feelings for Rachel, but your words say otherwise. Your heart betrays you, my son. You love Rachel Scott, neither her death nor your marriage not erased that feeling. Stop calling her Dr. Scott, it will not help you forget her more quickly." Jed advised Tom._

 _"That means nothing. Those are just words." He continued to deny the obvious, but the following words showed his true feelings. "I was the last person to see her alive, I talked to her for a few minutes before she was shot. I refused to see her lifeless body. I do not have that memory, but maybe I should have . This would have erased the other memories I have of her. "_

 _"Do things the right way. Your marriage is a mistake and you know it. You need to make peace with yourself first. Be honest with your feelings. Say goodbye to Rachel properly. Mourn her because otherwise you will end up hurting yourself and hurting someone in the process. Whether you're aware of it or not, you are already doing it."_

 _"Dad, I cannot divorce her. It won't be fair to my wife. She loves me and I would hurt her."_

 _"Listen to what you're saying. She loves you but you cannot love her. Your marriage was for all the wrong reasons. It was your loneliness that led you to it. A marriage will not hold if a couple are not into it 100%. Admit it; you're not committed to it totally."_

 _"Feelings can change, Dad. There will come a day when it will be just a distant memory. I just need to try harder to make my marriage work."_

 _"Time does not heal anything. It just makes shit seem more tolerable." Tom raised an eyebrow in reaction to the phrase his father used._

 _"If you cannot properly handle the situation, the wounds will not heal; they will continue to bleed even after a few years. Say goodbye; Say everything that you keep in your heart, your regrets, your feelings, your doubts."_

 _"It's too late. Rachel is dead and she will not return." I just need to convince myself of that, Tom thought, not for the first time._

 _"From what you said, Tex threw the ashes into the sea." Jed said._

 _Tom was confused by the question, because it was information that his father already knew, but he answered anyway. "Yes. They were friends. Tex did it, he thought it was a good place for her final resting place."_

 _"You need to talk to her, Tom."_

 _"No, Rachel's a part of my past and it is there that she should stay. I'll be able rip out that feeling off my chest._ _I just need more time."_

 _"You're a grown man and I cannot tell you what to do, but your wife will always be a poor substitute, Tom. What you feel for her is nothing compared with what you_ _ **feel**_ _for Rachel."_

 _"What I feel is guilt, because I could not protect Rachel. My wife is not a substitute, Dad. I feel genuine love, friendship and respect for her, but I know that you do not believe me."_

 _"I believe you have respect, admiration and affection for your wife, but love, no. I insist on this, because I care about you and my daughter-in-law."_

 _"Dad, talking about it does not change the facts. Rachel had brain death due to injuries. She is in the past. I try not to think about what might have been, because ..."_

 _Jed was looking at him with worried eyes. Tom realized that his father did not believe him. He suddenly felt too tired to go on pretending in front of him._

 _"I love Rachel. That's what you want to hear?" Tom confesses, his voice tortured by pain and guilt._

 _"Tom ..."_

 _Tom interrupted his father. Now that he has confessed the truth, he had to tell everything. "You know why I did not throw her ashes in the sea? Because I was hunting the man who took her life. When I caught him, he confessed, laughing, as it had been easy, as he watched the terror in her eyes before killing her. I can tell you he was not laughing at the end, he was begging to die. I allowed a part of me to take control, a beast, without remorse, without empathy, without feelings except for hatred. For a while it was all I could feel."_

" _To kill a man does not make you a monster, son. You are only human, fallible. Sometimes the way to light is through darkness, because it reminds us who we are."_

 _"I was in a very dark place, Dad. I could only think of how I could kill, cause pain to my enemies, make them suffer. Even after I killed Rachel's killer, my thirst for revenge was not satisfied, I wanted more, I wish it were possible to kill him again and again and again. My wife was a small light that took me out of that darkness. I need to forget."_

 _"I did not mean to hurt you by bringing up painful memories. As a father, I just want to be able to protect you, but it is also my duty to show your mistakes. To overcome a problem, you have to face it, and not run away from it."_

 _"I know. I'll try to deal with the situation differently, without trying to deny what I feel. It's not that easy, Dad."_

 _"It may not be an easy way, but the result will bring you peace."_

The opening of the front door, and someone complaining about the rain interrupted Tom's memories. _Ah Dad, the last thing I feel now is peace. I feel so broken, aimless. I wish I could talk to you as I did before. I miss you._

Mike almost jumped out of his skin as he heard a voice coming from the shadows in the corner of the room. "Did you find Rachel?"

"God damn you, Tom! Do you want to give me a heart attack? Why are you in the dark like a ghost?" Mike asked.

"You're getting old if you didn't notice my presence. Besides, I like being in the dark." Tom says as he gets up from his chair. "So, did she call you?"

"Sit down! I am an older man and need a drink to warm my old bones." Mike said.

Mike comes out of the kitchen with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. "I think we need a drink." He filled the two glasses, handing one to Tom. He drained his drink in one gulp as he watched his friend do the same.

"So?" Tom demanded.

"No for both questions. Have a little patience. The day is not yet over, she can still call."

"She throws a bombshell on my lap and do you expect me to have patience?" Tom asks as he picks up the bottle and refills his glass.

"Right….unfortunately, we have another problem, the press already knows that you're back. You're all over the news."

Several news channels reported about the captain's return. Mike remembers having earlier seen the headlines of various TV channels and discussions about the return of the country's most illustrious son.

 _The ANCHORMAN speaks. Behind him, a file photo of Tom Chandler in his uniform. "For years Thomas Chandler, the captain of the last ship, lives in self-imposed exile. He has not been seen publicly for years. But it seems that something has changed." Another photo is placed next to the first one. The expression on Tom's face is unfriendly, with no hint of a smile. "As you can see from this new photo, he is back. Accompanied by his longtime friend, Mike Slaterry."_

 _Another TV channel using the same photo._

" _Since the tragic death of his wife, Thomas Chandler lapsed into a reclusive existence, avoiding human contact. What are the reasons for his return? Military issues? Health problems? We got in touch with the Navy's press office, but they refused to comment on it."_

 _All the channels used the same photo of Tom. With almost the same headline only in different languages._

 _Le Capitaine est de retour! Pourquoi?_

 _Thomas Chandleri il capitano è tornato ..._

 _Капитан_ _"Chandler"_ _вернулся_

 _"Er ist wieder da"_

"Is there something I should know?" Tom asked

"Do not worry, they don't know about your baby girl. They're just making speculations about your return."

"Good."

"I know you do not want to hear it, but it's just a matter of time for them to find out about the truth"

Tom's expression changes and he says ferociously. "They will not get close to my daughter!"

 _Who are you trying to deceive?_ Tom's demons were screaming louder and trying to break loose from their chains. _You failed before._

Mike watches the storm forming in Tom's eyes. If the press knew what was good for them, they should keep their distance. Realizing that he was getting tense again, Mike decided to change the subject.

"I contacted someone who can help us find our wandering bird." At that moment, a light began to shine on the video conferencing equipment.

"Speak of the devil." Mike says as he heads for the equipment. He turns on the equipment and the screen shows a woman, her face framed by bright red hair, her mouth curved into a warm smile.

"Hello, Val, your timing is perfect. Tell me you have good news for me." Mike said.

"I think I was just insulted. Did you have any doubts that I would be successful?" She asks with false indignation.

Tom tried not to roll his eyes. "I'm sure Mike has the utmost respect for your abilities. Tell us what you found out, please."

She says, in a playful tone. Not surprised to see him, after all he was all over the news. "Thomas Chandler. I see you haven't lost your charming personality and good looks." Then, in a more serious tone, she goes on. "It's really good to see you, Sir."

"Thanks, Val."

"Oh, by the way, Wolf sends you a message. He said, and I quote, 'if he needs me just call, anytime, anywhere, I'll be ready."

Tom felt a lump in his throat as he thinks he does not deserve such loyalty.

"Tell Wolf I appreciate his offer. Let's get back to the subject. Rachel."

"Okay. I dug deeper, and you will not believe where she is, which makes sense in a certain way ..."

"Val, focus…" Mike reminds her.

"Sorry. Our little bird went back to the nest. She's in Norfolk". She saw the confusion and surprise on the faces of the two men and hurried to explain. "She is in Norfolk County in England."

She gave the men a few minutes to absorb the information and then said. "There's one more thing, as you know, I've tried to track her down before, without success, what I can think of is that she did not use cards, phones, any kind of technology, but now the phone she used was encrypted, technology of the military type. It seems that your doctor has powerful friends, Captain. I just thought you should know. Okay, so what's the big secret?"

"Secret?" Tom asks with his most innocent look, but realizes that she is not buying it.

"Come on, she's back and you also decided to abandon your exile. This connection is secure, I promise. In addition, I can help to mislead the press. I'm dying of curiosity here." Val wheedled.

He needed all the help he could get to protect his daughter. Val was trustworthy, and could help keep the reporters away from his daughter. "Theresa," Tom says in a low, anguished voice.

"Who?" she asked confused. She alternated looking between the two men. Realizing that it is more likely to get a clear answer from Mike, she looked at him for answers.

Mike responded cheerfully, "Theresa is Rachel's daughter. It seems that the little one inherited the eyes and the stubbornness of the father. I hope she has inherited the brains and beauty of her mother."

"Who is the father?" The question was automatic. She had not lost the unusual behavior of Mike Slattery, something great has happened for him to act out of character. The normally taciturn commander was practically dancing with excitement.

After a few seconds, her brain processed it all by adding two plus two and found five. She yelled out. "No way! How did this happen? Stupid question, forget I asked that. Wow! The daughter of the Captain and Dr. Scott!" Val smiled from ear to ear, "That is awesome news! With your combined genes, she must be an adorable child! Do you have a photo of her? She asked as she leaned closer to the screen.

"No, it seems that Rachel still is in the habit of sharing information sparingly," Tom replied sardonically.

In the months that Val had lived with the crew of Nathan James, she realized that Thomas Chandler was a brilliant strategist. But what had happened had made him suspicious and a little more volatile.

"Your doctor is a smart woman, Captain. Maybe she's just being careful. Some members of the press are like sharks and your story is a very juicy dish."

"That's what I told him, that she was being careful." Mike says. "She has always been brilliant; proof of this is that she has managed to stay out of our radar through all these years."

"She is not mine," Tom growled. Then he said with urgency in his voice. "This news cannot leak; we must keep the press away from Theresa for as long as possible."

"I understand, I'll do my best to help, you can count on me. I will monitor the press information and make things difficult for them. If…" she was about to say something when the phone rang.

"Wait a minute Val," Mike says as he picks up the phone.

"Slattery." Mike replied succinctly.

"Not exactly… you don't have to thank me…He's not the one...he will not make things easy … You're absolutely right… I'll do my best to help….but…"

"Who are you talking to?" Tom asks Mike pointedly.

From her unique vantage point, Val observes the two men with interest. Could it be that Slattery was talking to Rachel? The tense expression on the Tom' face meant he was thinking the same. The interaction between Tom and Rachel has always been interesting to watch. They seemed to arouse the best and the worst of each other.

"Yeah, and as a friend said, he has not lost his charming personality." Mike chuckled into the mouthpiece.

"Give me that," Tom practically growls while reaching for the telephone.

However much technology has evolved, the forces of nature still reigned supreme. When Tom has yanked the phone from Mike's hand, the storm chose that moment to cover the city and cut-off the communications.

 _TBC_

* * *

 _Love it? Hate it?_ _Leave a review._


	4. Survivor's Guilt

**Survivor's Guilt**

 _ **A few years ago**_

"Tom, although I have also lost my children, I cannot imagine the pain you carry now. Losing a child is the most painful experience a father can endure. It's like losing a part of yourself forever."

For a moment, the President stopped talking as if he had relived a painful memory. "When I was sunk in despair, you were my lifeboat. At the moment only one person can give you the comfort you need."

"As you know, my wife is working to collect information about the immunes; I don't know where she is. In this type of work, secret is the key to safety. Our enemy is dangerous and we cannot underestimate them. This was my mistake and it cost me my family's life."

They had discovered, after Rachel's death, that the enemies were more organized than they thought. It was necessary to know how they worked to destroy it.

"I agree with you, that our enemies are dangerous, but what happened was not your fault, Tom."

"It's what everyone tells me, sir."

"I can see it in your eyes that you don't believe in that."

A look of anguish crossed Tom's face. Never again would he hear the laughter of his children, hear the word "daddy" from their lips or feel the warmth of their embraces, because he failed to protect them. "No, sir."

 _Maybe she can convince him otherwise. There is no easy way to say it. I have to get straight to the point. "_ Tom, Rachel Scott is alive. I faked her death with the help of other doctors. She is in a safe house. Remains to be so."

The familiar pain stabbed Tom's heart to hear of her name. He got up from his seat and went to the window. Jeffrey Michener was prepared for a combination of relief, happiness and anger when Tom knows of the truth. But the look of excruciating pain on the Admiral's face was unexpected. Tom was as still as a statue, staring at the gardens outside.

Tom feels the pain and guilt of knowing that everyone around him is dying while he survived. She's dead for ten months and twelve days, dead people do not come back. He heard it wrong, that can only be it. He needs to get out of here before he loses some of the sanity he still has.

Tom suddenly turns around and finds the worried look of the President. "I need to go, Sir," he mumbled as he headed for the door. He was unable to hide the panic and desperation in his voice.

"Stay where you are, Admiral Chandler," Michener ordered. Like a good soldier, Tom stopped immediately.

As president, Michener should not explain his decisions. But he was in debt to the man in front of him. A man with his soul in pieces. Too injured to accept the fact that the woman he loves is alive.

"I apologize for lying to you. For her safety, the enemies should think she was dead. Brain death was easier to fake, her heart kept beating, she had a pulse, but the doctors could say they were being kept artificially. Some crew members even said goodbye to her. I know how close you two are. How important she is to you. This was the best way to hide the truth, lie to you, too. Dr. Rachel Scott is alive," Michener insists.

 _Why is it so hard to believe?_ Tom asks himself. Because he is already accustomed to pain. Hope is a dangerous feeling, because when it ends in deception the pain is more overwhelming.

"Mr. President, you are mistaken, IF she were really alive, I would know it. She would have contacted me."

"It was not safe, Tom; moreover, she was in a coma for two weeks. Think logically. Why I would invent such an absurd story?"

"It's hard to believe in miracles when I've lost so much lately, sir. As a soldier, I should have been able to protect those closest to me, but I failed. I don't know if I deserve this miracle, if it really exists."

He is beginning to believe, although he still wasn't completely convinced, Michener noted. "Since we are talking about miracles, she has managed to defeat a deadly virus in a few weeks, demonstrates how strong she is. Another person would have already broken under the pressure."

"Yeah, she **is** the strongest and most obstinate person I know, "Tom agrees, a ghost of a smile curving his lips. _Oh God, she's alive,_ he finally accepts the truth. Rachel is alive. The thought is like a balm to his pain. "Is she okay?" He asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Yes, she completely recovered. In recent months, it was essential to find a cure for the new virus."

Along with the feeling of relief to know that she is alive, another feeling begins to crawl like liquid fire through his veins. Anger over being kept in the dark for so long. Many things could have been different had he known the truth before. "Dr. Rios has suddenly become a virus expert because she is doing the work."

"Exactly. In view of what happened recently, I do not regret my decision. She is very important; if she had died, the survival of our species would be seriously threatened."

"I have trouble believing that she has agreed to participate in this lie as a good soldier, without arguing. She always argues about everything."

"I am happy to say that this aspect of her personality has not changed. Rachel Scott disagreed with my decision. Vehemently. She wanted you to know. She said that she trusts you with her life. After she regained consciousness, the doctors had a lot of work to keep her in bed."

"I can imagine. How did they convince her to cooperate?"

"She had a friend nearby. I needed her to be surrounded by people she could trust. So I chose Mr. Nolan to protect her."

"Of course, Tex. Such an obvious choice, because he made no secret of what he felt for her. The signs were all there. The haste to cremate her body, with the excuse that the enemies could try to steal her body, the _disappearance_ of Dr. Milowsky, and especially the fact that Dr. Rios suddenly becomes a virus expert, as I'm stupid."

Michener watches as Tom walks away and stands with his back to him again. His whole body shook with rage, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles were white. Then Michener remembers his last conversation with Tex Nolan, in the same room a few months.

 **Flashback**

"Mr. President. Dr. Milowsky." He greeted the two men in the room, noting Thomas Chandler's absence; everyone knew that he was the President's trusted man.

"Please, Mr. Nolan, sit down. You must be wondering why I've called you here."

 _If I know anything about the premature death of Rachel's killer? If Thomas Chandler has anything to do with it? Sorry, you can be the President now, but I would never betray a friend. The bastard deserved to die slowly for what he did to her. I only regret that I was not there to help._

"Well, Mr. President, I was surprised by your invitation, but I honestly have no idea what this meeting is about."

"I have a mission for you, that will require you to lie to everyone you know, especially the crew of Nathan James. Nothing we say leaves this room."

"Thank you for your confidence, Mr. President, but I have a daughter who needs me. You have good men and women under your command, any of them would do the work."

"I already hoped you'd say that. Dr. Scott is alive, Mr. Nolan. Her condition is delicate, but she's alive, and I want to keep it that way."

Looking as if someone had hit him in the stomach, Tex alternated his gaze between the two men. "What?"

"To ensure her safety Dr. Rios and Dr. Milowsky agreed to report her death. For her safety, the world must think she's dead. If Dr. Scott dies, hope dies with her."

"With all due respect, Mr. President, to tell all of us that she was dead was cruel. We could keep the secret; any of us would do it for her."

"I know, but unfortunately, to deceive the enemy, the pain of her family should be real. Our resources are limited. The assassination attempt has shown how vulnerable she was. We need to protect her at any cost. She is too valuable to be lost. They must think they were successful; they will not try to kill someone who is already dead."

Tex understood and agreed with some of the President's arguments, but still thought they should have been warned. He remembers the doctor coming into the room where everyone was waiting for news and said, "I'm sorry to have to say this, but her brain was irreparably damaged during surgery. Her heart still beats, but what made her Dr. Scott is gone." The memory still brings a bitter taste to his tongue.

"Doc, your interpretation was masterful. You deceived us all. We believed because we trusted your word. I'm glad she's alive, yes, but ... does **he** know?" Tex knew the answer to that question, the absence of the Admiral giving him a clue.

It was the President who answered him, "No, Admiral Chandler doesn't know and should not know, Mr. Nolan. Your job is to take care of her security until it is safe to tell the world that her death was a lie."

Tom had taken of Rachel's death with a stoic resignation, but Tex knew he must have been suffering a lot. It would be difficult to conceal a truth that could end his suffering.

"Doc, I have a question for you. Whose ashes was that I cast in the sea?"

"I can assure you, Tex, those were not ashes of a human being."

"Please tell me that you did not cremate a small dog, a cat or rabbit."

The doctor smiled, he had already realized that Tex used humor as a defense mechanism to deal with difficult situations. He considered Chandler a friend and would have to lie to him.

"The ashes were not of animal origin, I assure you."

He says in a playful tone. "Just checking." Then in a serious tone, "Mr. President, I accept the mission. I cannot deny that I do not like to lie to him. I consider him a friend. I can only hope that the Commodore will forgive me."

"He will understand that we have done it for her safety; I know it is not being easy for him, I am not blind, Mr. Nolan. His feelings are much stronger than a simple friendship."

"She likes you. It will be good for her to have a friend around when she wakes up, This can help in her recovery," the Doctor said.

"Doctor, you don't have to convince me. I accepted the mission the moment I heard that she is alive."

"Very well, I knew I could count on you. Admiral Chandler was very effusive in praising your work. Dr. Milowsky goes with you and the other soldiers of Nathan James. Here is more information about the mission," the President said while handing him a folder. "Good luck, Mr. Nolan. Take good care of Dr. Scott!" "I will protect her with my life, Mr. President. But before I go, can I ask a question?"

Go ahead, Mr. Nolan."

"Who's going to tell him everything was a big lie when it's time?"

 **End Flashback**

"Tom…"

When he turned around, the feeling Michener hoped to find were burning in the blue eyes, unmitigated anger. Not for the first time was he happy to have Chandler as an ally, otherwise, he is a dangerous adversary.

Tom's voice trembled with the effort to keep his rage in check. "I thought you trusted me, Mr. President."

"I trust you, this never ceased to be true, but your relationship with her was a risk. The enemies would use you to get to her and—"

"Rachel and I did not have a relationship, Sir," he denied, but in his voice, there is a hint of regret.

Michener looks at him with compassion as he realized he had said too much. He knows. Tom decided to remain silent; it seemed to be the best course of action now.

"I meant like a friend, Tom. Never crossed my mind to insinuate something different."

"Sorry, sir."

"Don't be. You have every right to be a bit shocked of this news. Mr. Nolan did not liked lying to you, but he understood that it was necessary. I chose him, partly because **you** trusted him, in his abilities, and partly because I knew he would do anything to keep her safe."

 _He's right, you know. Who would be the second best man to protect her if you had to choose?_ An annoying voice whispered in the back of his head. Tex would be the perfect choice because, "He loved her."

"Yes." He loved her as much as you did. "Because he did not belong to Nathan James's regular crew, his absence would not raise undesirable suspicions. It made him the perfect candidate."

The feelings of anger and betrayal are supplanted by the harsh reality that Tex is also dead and that he had helped keep Rachel alive. Tex had certainly done a better job than he had.

"When can I talk to her?"

"Tomorrow. For obvious reasons she is in a place that is difficult to access. It will be a long trip." Tom sighed. Tomorrow never seemed so far away for him.

"I know you can't wait to see her. I just ask that you have a little more patience, tomorrow you'll see her again, I promise. I'll also brief your team on this."

The President was pleased to see the change in Thomas Chandler. The empty stare had given way to hope. An interest in life that had disappeared in the last days. The pain was still there, probably never going to disappear. She could do for him, what everyone had tried in the last days. She could give him a little peace.

TBC


	5. A House by the Beach

**Author's Notes:** Thank you for all of you who have read, followed and favorited this story. We hope that you will be with us on this "Theresa" journey. The reunion of our beloved Scotch + Theresa is still a few Chapters away. Yes, we have already completed several chapters of "Theresa" that are awaiting editing.

Meanwhile, we hope you will continue to provide us with your comments or feedback to our Chapters.

In between our updates, we invite you to read our other stories (written by Acalanto and JOYS OF OCTOBER). We are also looking at reposting the edited version of Rebecca and continuing this story (JOYS is quite insistent!).

Still Rated T. We will warn you accordingly when we reach the "M" chapters (to be written by JOYS).

Enjoy!

* * *

 **A House by the Beach**

Tom stopped abruptly when he saw her through the window glass, a soldier almost colliding behind him.

"Sorry, sir."

Tom's heart pounded furiously in his chest. He watched her, his eyes following the movement of her hands as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. He sighed quietly to himself when she turned her back on the window.

"Sir," the soldier called and Tom started to walk again, controlling himself not to run the last meters that separated him from a miracle.

As he reached the front door, it opened to welcome him in. Much to his surprise, he found himself face-to-face with one of his soldiers from the James, Rodriguez. "Welcome, Sir, it's good to see you again," Rodriguez greeted him.

"Rodriguez…" he returns as he enters the house. Tom's eyes were immediately drawn to the familiar figure just steps away from him.

"Sorry, sir, it was the President's orders."

"I understand," he thought he replied when all his attention was focused on the woman in front of him, in her warm, brown eyes. His wonderful miracle right in front of him.

"We'll be outside, sir," one of them said, Jackson maybe. Tom was not sure and did not even care. The two soldiers left and he did not even notice. Rachel was staring at him quietly, her brown eyes apprehensive.

He closed the distance between them in a few steps, hauled her into his arms, and hugged her so tightly she could hardly breathe. A few seconds later, he moves a few inches and asks, "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

"'Yes, I'm all right. I'm happy to see you too," she whispers softly from her place on his chest, her arms hugging him close to her as well.

He smiled and hugged her more carefully this time. "I still cannot believe that you're here, alive," he whispered, kissing her forehead. Then, he propped his chin on the crown of her head. They stood there for a long time, not speaking, just relishing the feeling of having each other in their arms.

When they separated, they moved towards the couch to sit down. Tom did not release Rachel's hand, not wanting to lose any contact with her. He needed to feel her warmth. He looked around the house and said, "Cozy home you got here."

"I was moved to this house a little more than a month ago. President Michener thought I needed vacation. But a golden cage is still a cage, Tom."

"You _'_ re alive _._ That's all that matters _._ I would give anything to have my family back."

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Tom. I can't imagine how difficult it has been for you. If there is anything that I can do for you, I will do it," she softly said, her free hand on his cheek.

"The fact that I know that you are alive already helps. I...I did not cry for them, I could not…"

"Do not be so hard on yourself; the tears will come when it's time."

"I know, but it seems wrong, as if I did not care enough, they were my babies, Rachel….and Tex, he knew about you all the time."

"Yes, they thought that having a friend around, someone I could trust would help me recover. The less people knew, the better, a secret is harder to keep if there are too many people involved."

"You agreed to that and simply obeyed orders like a good soldier?" he asked incredulously.

"I was not in a position to make decisions. I was in a coma for two weeks. They were not sure that I would survive. Tex loved me and I loved him, too, but not the way he deserved and now he's dead and ..."

He felt a stab of jealousy when he heard her say she loved Tex. Seeing her unshed tears, feeling uncomfortable, ashamed for acting like an idiot, he said, "I'm sorry, I'm acting like an idiot. Stupid, stupid…forgive me."

"You're not stupid, you're just tired, it's too much to digest in a short time. How is Kate dealing with all of this?"

"As expected, she's sad, very sad, although she is trying to be strong. Danny and Kara are taking care of her."

"She's as strong as her father, but I'm glad to hear that Kara and Danny are taking care of her. And Kara's baby can be a welcome distraction for her."

"Yeah…It seems that she inherited her father's sense of humor. I'm going to miss him, he was a good friend."

"Me, too," Rachel murmured while looking at his hands clasped with hers, his wedding ring standing out in his left hand. Life would be easier if she could choose who to fall in love with. Tex would be the perfect choice, but her heart most often chose the hardest and most painful way.

He looked down at his fingers intertwined with hers, and thinks, in a perfect world, his family and friends would be alive and she would wear a ring similar to...no, this is his reality. Then he met her eyes. "I got married again."

She said softly, "I know."

"Is there anything you do not know?" he asked.

"Mike found his family, Bertrise met an uncle and returned home, Kara's baby name is Frank, Wolf and Val are dating. Yeah, I know about the latest events. They told me about your marriage and I also noticed that the ring you have now is different from the one you used before. I'm happy for you, you deserve ... you must be tired and hungry."

"It's getting dark outside," he said looking out the window. "Lately, it's always dark and no, I'm not hungry." What he wants is to be close to her, but first he needs to gain some control over his emotions. It hurt when he thought she was dead and now that he knows she's alive, it still hurts. "But you're right, I'm tired, the trip was long."

"Come on," she says getting up from the couch and pulling him by the hand. "I'll take you to your room."

He followed her upstairs; along the hallway were three closed doors. She stopped in front of the second door.

"This is to be your bedroom. As a sailor, I thought you would like to sleep under the stars," Rachel said as she opened the bedroom door. The room had large glass windows that overlooks the beautiful scenery outside, the turquoise blue of the endless see. At night, the expanse gives way to a starry sky, dark and lit by the stars. A large bed is at its center, the furnishings all made of wood. Minimalist but practical and handsome decor.

"Who sleeps here?"

"Nobody. This room has not been used since we arrived. Jackson and Rodriguez share the first room. I chose the room at the end of the corridor because it has a small studio where I can work."

"And Tex?"

"He never spent a night here. Try to rest, you look exhausted," she told him softly and turned to leave.

"Wait!" he said urgently.

She turned to him confused and then he gently grabbed her left wrist, feeling her skin warm and soft, and her pulse racing under the tips of his fingers. As if he needed to confirm that she was real, he gave a little squeeze on the pulse he held. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Try to rest," she repeats.

He lets go of her hand and she gave him a faint smile. Then she left, closing the door softly behind her.

He takes off his shoes and lies down on the bed. He was staring out of the sky through the window without really seeing anything. "Damn, I forgot my backpack down there," he muttered. He closed his eyes, trying to focus only on good memories when the tiredness claimed his body and he fell asleep.

A couple of hours later, Rachel took Tom's backpack from the living room and decided to check on him in his room. She knocked on his door but there was no reply. After waiting for a few seconds and hearing nothing, she softly opened the door and found Tom sprawled on his back in the middle of the bed. He was thrashing and mumbling, in the grip of a nightmare by the looks of it.

Carefully, Rachel sat on the bed and gently shook his shoulder, calling out, "Tom, wake up. Wake up."

Tom was trapped in the clutches of the nightmare, fighting his enemies. He thought that it was the enemy who was touching him. Instinctively, his arm lashed out, catching Rachel off-guard and causing her to be thrown on the floor beside the bed. A cry of surprise escaped her lips and the sound reached his brain, waking him up suddenly. Tom woke up scared. He frantically looked around and was surprised to find Rachel on the floor, looking at him with frightened wide eyes.

He rushed to her side and held her arms gently, "Rachel, are you hurt?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, _really,_ I just lost my breath for a minute _,"_ she said while getting up from the floor.

Tom helped her up gently. "Are you sure that I didn't hurt you?" he prodded her.

"Yes, Tom, I'm fine. I swear," she assured him. She would never admit that her chest hurts as she knows it will make him feel more guilty.

"Don't ever do that again; never try to wake me that way when I'm having a nightmare," he told her in a hard voice.

"I needed to wake you up; I couldn't leave you trapped in your nightmare."

"Yes, I was stuck in a nightmare, which makes me even more dangerous, my combat training takes over and I can attack you, thinking that you are the enemy. Dammit, Rachel, I could have seriously injured you or killed you."

She puts her hand on his chest and repeats, "I'm fine."

He placed his hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry; I did not mean to yell at you. I would never forgive myself if I hurt you."

"Hey, I'm fine. It's not your fault, it was just an accident. I am stronger than you think I am. Do you want to talk about the nightmare?" she asks.

His dreams always involved fighting with the killers of his children and his father, but he can never stop his babies from being killed. Every time he sleeps and dreams, he revives the agony a thousand times worse, because he already knows the ending. He exhaled slowly and walked away from her for a few steps, and answer the question without looking directly into her eyes. "I don't remember much, fragments, sensations, nothing concrete…"

She pretended to believe the lie. "I came to call you for dinner. Before you say you're not hungry, you need to eat .I'll wait for you downstairs."

In response to her emphatic tone and trying to redeem himself from having hit her, even if it was an involuntary gesture, he replied and snapped a perfect salute, "Perfectly clear, Ma'am!"

His efforts were rewarded when she smiled at him and rolled her eyes.

"But before I join you for dinner, I need to shower, I'm all sweaty," he grimaced while gesturing from his chest.

She followed his gaze and suddenly became aware of the man before her. Tom's sweat made his black shirt clung to his toned body like second skin. _Control your hormones, Rachel Scott, he is a married man, forbidden to you,_ she reproached herself.

Unable to look into his eyes, she says, "Okay. I'll wait for you downstairs," leaving him alone in the room.

He headed to the shower, and when he started to take off his clothes, he thought that Rachel seemed in a hurry to get away from him. _Damn it! I really scared her, he thought._ He stayed a long time under the jet of cold water, trying to relax his aching muscles and calm his restless mind.

Some minutes later, they were sitting in chairs on the deck that surrounded the house, a small table between them. Without realizing it, they had placed a physical barrier between them. Rachel managed to convince Tom to eat a sandwich which he finished. Now, he has a cup of coffee and she, her own cup of tea. The two soldiers providing her security have found something else to keep them busy and away from them.

They took their drinks in comfortable silence. The scenery around them was peaceful, beautiful, in the sky a cloak of stars shone like little diamonds, the sound of nocturnal animals and the waves breaking on the beach. She knew that he saw nor heard none of it, the distant look, elsewhere, and the pain of loss still raw. He did not seem to want to talk about what had happened to his family, and she respected his decision. She just stood by his side, hoping that her presence could help him.

He knew so little about the woman sitting next to him _._ During those months, work always came first, with no space for conversations about personal issues. Now he has a second chance. In his peripheral vision, he observed her hands holding the cup, her lips sipping the tea in small sips; her luxuriant brown hair, free of the braid, was swaying by the gentle breeze, brought back memories of that fateful night…

"No," he whispered, shaking his head, as if to expel the undesirable thoughts.

"Tom, are you okay?" Rachel asks, her brown eyes filled with worry and sympathy.

"Fine. Mike mentioned that you worked in Mogadishu. Your record does not contain this information. It only mentions your earlier work with the most dangerous viruses and your academic background. I feel that I know so little about you," he said while placing his cup on the table.

"My academic background was what interested those whom I wanted to persuade to send me on the mission. Well, most of the work of a virologist is laboratory research, but I wanted field experience, so I went to areas where epidemics were happening. Sometimes they were also areas of conflict, many patients with a variety of injuries inflicted by gunshots. I worked in the hospital emergency for a few a time."

"It must have been difficult and dangerous. Hospitals are meant to be safe places in war zones, protected by the Geneva Convention, but shots and bombs do not respect treaties signed into diplomatic conventions."

"Very true! When I worked at the hospital in Mogadishu, we managed to operate and stabilize a patient, and two hours later his enemies shot him inside the hospital. He was practically a child; he was only 14 years old. Amin, another doctor, and I begged for his life to be spared."

"Jesus Christ! You could have been killed," Tom exclaimed, aghast.

"They were not interested in us. Maybe they thought we might be needed in the future as we were the only medical team in the area. I came back home two weeks later."

"And I thought that you lived a sheltered life in your academic world."

"In the academic world, the competition can be brutal, intense, especially when it comes to the top of the ranking."

"Why did you choose to become a scientist?"

"My parents were missionaries; I traveled a lot. On one of those trips, my mother contracted malaria. My father did not believe in science, he thought that only God could give and take life, so he prevented her from being treated and…" She took a sip of her tea, as if she had to buy time to compose herself.

He knew that look. It was the same thing he saw when he looked in the mirror. The look that spoke of loss and pain. "She died..."

"Yes." She tried to take another sip of her tea, but realized her cup was empty. She placed the empty cup on the table and drew her hands together on her lap.

"If you do not want to talk about it, we can talk about anything else," Tom said softly while looking at her.

"It's okay; you said you want to know me, the real me. My past is an important part of who I am."

"I don't want to hurt you by bringing painful memories to the surface."

"I want to talk to you about my past. I trust you, Tom, like I've never trusted anyone before."

"I don't know if I deserve it, but thank you."

"Well, the nurse who took care of her saw my anger and told me that I should channel that feeling into something positive. So that day I decided to prove to my father that science could save lives."

"How old were you when this happened?

"I was nine years old."

"You were too young to make such an important decision. You were just a child."

"My best quality manifested itself early, I think."

With a sudden inspiration, he realized that a part of that child that wanted to save her mother is still very much alive in her. "Each life you save is a tribute to your mother and a victory over your father."

"You are very perceptive. That's why you're such a good leader. My mother lives in every patient that my job helps save. I like to think that she would be proud of me."

"I have no doubt of that. And your father?"

"I stayed with my father a few more years after my mother died but I couldn't forgive him and our relationship became difficult. Then he decided it was time for me to go home. I was sent to a cousin of my mother in England. My father died in an earthquake in Pakistan when I was 20 years old."

"You did not have a very easy life, Rachel."

She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "Do not feel sorry for me. The problems only made me stronger."

Tom did not say anything, but his look spoke for him, _"Relax, Rachel, I am not the enemy here."_

She uncrossed her arms; her posture relaxed, and gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry, Tom. Didn't mean to sound defensive. Sometimes I can be…"

"A fiercely independent woman, I know," he said with a knowing smile. "It's okay Rachel. It's good to know that despite what happened your claws are still sharp."

She smiled at him, remembering when he'd said if she needed a Bengal tiger, he'd get her one.

"This mission brought about very painful memories of my mother, my father and the numerous times that the possibility of failure has driven fear into me.

""But you did not fail, Rachel. You succeeded brilliantly and your work has saved millions of lives."

"Our work, Tom. This virus was only defeated because I had the help of the crew of Nathan James, Quincy, my mentor, Dr. Hunter, the sacrifice of Maya, the natural immunity of Bertrise and especially your faith in me," Rachel reminded him.

"I saw your obstinacy, it was impossible not to believe in someone so determined to win. Sometimes you showed your fears, like when you cried after Maya's death. Your eyes were red when you came back with the solution."

"I've never been so afraid; I've never felt so alone, like that day. All my knowledge and my certainties seemed useless, watching each of them die, knowing that I had condemned them to their deaths."

"How did you find the answer?"

"Quincy came and said we'd find another way. A way to save others because those in quarantine were doomed, that's what I heard. I stared at the monkey, more and more desperate. Ask the right questions, Rachel, I could almost hear my mentor whisper in my ear. Then I realized that the answer was in front of me all the time, I was looking at a monkey that did not have the human gene. "

"Trojan horse, as a good soldier, you have used a good battle strategy to deal with the enemy, you're already thinking like one of us, Doctor."

"I'm not a soldier, Tom, but it does not mean that I cannot use some of your tactics."

"Have you ever thought what to do when all of this is over?"

"My work here is finished. It's time to go home. As a matter of fact, I think I'm no longer needed here."

"For me, you will always be important," he says so softly that she only heard because she are very close to him. Out loud he asked, "Home to England?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, I have no family in England, and the few friends I had must be dead. It was not fair that I had the benefit that I denied the crew of Nathan James, to warn my friends about the plague. I confess that this mission stretched my limits. I need some time, away from everything."

He remembered the discussion between her and Quincy about a boyfriend. "May I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Michael. He was a photographer. He was very important to me; we talked about marriage, children, a life together. Michael was in China, one of the places where the epidemic was most devastating. He is probably dead, because if he had been alive, he would have contacted me."

He remembered what she said after the death of Niels. _'I looked into the eyes of the monster who stole everything I held dear to me._ ' At the time, he thought she was talking about Dr. Hunter, her friend and mentor. She could be talking about her boyfriend. She had also lost so much. "I'm so sorry, Rachel. I should have been a better friend."

"You're a good friend, Tom. Your support was essential so that I could do my work, a job that I now need to finish. When that happens, I can go back to a normal life."

"You're the most famous person in the world today. Anonymity will be almost impossible for you. I see some tributes in your future."

"I did not do this for recognition. I think I fit in the stereotype of the scientist who does feel better with research than with people."

"That's not true. The whole crew of Nathan James likes you. Me, Miller, Cruz, Mike, Kara, Danny, Bacon, Mason, Jeter, Burk, Wolf, Granderson, Garnet…"

She decided to interrupt him before he would name of all crew members. "My heart never had a safe port, well, except my work. Despite all, my work has brought me to you, and the crew of Nathan James. That's why I'm grateful, for the chance to have been a part of family for a while."

"You'll always be part of this family, Rachel."

She gave him a grateful smile. "When did you decide that you wanted to be a soldier?"

"I come from a family with a tradition of military service. I'd lived around military uniforms all my life. I think the choice was just natural to me. My only act of rebellion was to choose the navy and not the army, as my father."

"You have a natural ability to lead. It comes as easy for you as breathing. You have a backbone of steel, but sometimes you let your heart rule your decisions when dealing with people and their frailties."

"I never let my heart dominate in military matters, Rachel; it would be the formula for disaster."

"Danny and Kara, Ava, Bertrise…"

"Well, those were different, Bertrise and Ava are practically kids, and they needed my help. Lieutenant Foster and Lieutenant Green were punished when they broke the rules of non-fraternization. After the death of Niels, I treated you like a pariah on my ship _._ My decisions have always been based on what I thought was right, not on what was easy."

She felt that they were treading dangerous grounds with their conversation now. She does not want to talk about Niels. She doesn't want that man's shadow to ruin their reunion.

"For me, he was the evil that should be eliminated, Tom. I did what needed to be done."

"When I decided to be a soldier, I thought it should be the best it could be. And this includes making difficult, sometimes, painful decisions. I never doubted myself, my convictions, but now I'm not so sure. Maybe we are not so different after all."

"What are you talking about, Tom?"

He got up from his chair and walked a few steps, resting both hands on the rail that surrounds the deck, his posture very tense. Would she look at him differently if he told the truth? If he confessed his darkest secrets? The atrocities he was capable of committing. That the man she admired was a farce.

"Tom…." Rachel followed him and touched his shoulder lightly.

When he turned around, she could see the darkness in his blue eyes. "I'm talking about my thirst for revenge, Rachel."

"Tom, your father and your children were murdered; your desire for revenge is normal. That does not make you a monster, quite the contrary, in fact. You are human, you have emotions, feelings, frustrations, desires. It's normal for you to feel that they must pay for the pain they inflicted on you," Rachel pacified him, her hand cradling his cheek and Tom leaned into it, relishing the feeling of her soft palm on his face.

"You don't understand!" His eyes darkened even more. "I experienced this thirst before and drank every drop. I hunted, tortured and killed the man who shot you. I felt the same thirst."

"I will not be hypocritical and say I'm not happy that that bastard is dead. Because I am. But it saddens me to know that this took a part of you. Answer me one thing. What do you miss the most when you think about your children?"

"Ah Rachel! I miss everything. I miss the way they called me daddy, insatiable curiosity, the feeling of their little hands holding mine, their joy when I came back from a mission. The feel of their hearts beating against mine as I carried them, their heads nestled on my shoulder and their warm breath against my neck."

"They may no longer be here physically, but a part of them lives here," Rachel said while placing her hand over his heart. "If you get carried away by your desire for revenge, you're going to kill what remains of them, because the father they loved will be dead and they will also be."

"I don't know if I'm that strong."

"You are. This does not mean that you should not seek justice. Those bastards do not mind dying for the cause, they're fanatics. The best way to destroy them is to destroy the cause they fight for. They took what was most important to you, hit you where it hurts the most."

"The clever combatant imposes his will on the enemy, but does not allow the enemy's will to be imposed on him."

"The Art of War by Sun Tzu. Very apt, Admiral."

"Have you read the Art of War?"

"I am not a student of military history like you, but my travels with my parents helped me to know many different cultures. Literature is an important part of a people's culture. You seemed to know how to deal with Ruskov, because you had already studied his military tactics, right?"

"Yes. Technology may have changed the way we do wars, but in the end, it's the men who make the decisions. So it helps to know how they think. But sometimes the enemy surprises."

"Tom," she says, reaching out to caress his face. "You can do this."

When Rachel talks like that, it's so easy to believe, but he knows he has a long way to go. "I hope you're right."

"I believe you because I **know** you. You can do this. Believe me."

Rachel blinked to fight the fatigue that was threatening to overwhelm her. Ever since she'd known what had happened she could not sleep properly.

The tiredness in her eyes did not go unnoticed to him. "Thanks Rachel, you're an amazing woman and would make an excellent military strategist."

"I have my moments,"Rachel said, doing her best to stifle a yawn.

"Come on," he says pulling her by the hand. "Bed, now. You need to sleep, Dr. Scott."

"I'm fine," she said.

"That would be more convincing if you could keep your eyes open when you say it."

"I'm fine," she repeats firmly, but the effect is spoiled by a large yawn.

Tom breathed a laugh, "Rachel, you have not changed at all. You're still as stubborn as a mule."

"Hey! You're more stubborn than me, Thomas Chandler!" she pointed out with false indignation, happy to have put a smile on his face.

When they arrived at her bedroom door, he could not help thinking that soon he would be alone with his demons and he feared this moment. He looked at her sleepy brown eyes and wished he could stay in this bubble of peace forever. But he knew it was impossible.

Despite his stoic facade, for a moment she had a glimpse of pain and fear in his blue eyes. Instinctively, trying to comfort him in the only way she can, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

He hugged her back and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her familiar scent. It was good to be able to hold her in his arms, but it was also a source of torment, so near and yet so far.

She knew she should go to her room, sleep on her bed, but she didn't. Instead she snuggled closer into his embrace. He felt so good, so comforted wrapped in his arms and engulfed by his heat..

He noticed with amusement that she was practically asleep on her feet, leaning on his chest.

"Rachel, go to bed. You can barely keep your eyes open," he said down to her, still holding her in his arms.

"Hmm? Tired," she said sleepily

"Exactly why you should rest in your bed."

"It's so good here, you're warm and you smell good," she muttered sleepily while burrowing more deeply into his chest.

Her response made him laugh, especially when she murmured. "Oh, my God, did I say that out loud?"

He said, with a note of laughter in his voice, "Yes, you did. I'm glad that my smell pleases you, Ma'am."

She lifted her head from his chest and looked at him, her cheeks slightly pink, and an embarrassed smile on her face.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay, Tom?"

"Don't worry, I'll be okay," he said softly and placed a soft kiss on top of her head before pulling back reluctantly from their embrace.

"Maybe, I…"

"Go to bed. Now, Rachel," Tom said in his commanding voice but belied by the twinkling of his eyes.

"You are very bossy, you know."

"Maybe you want to discuss how I smell good or as I am hot…"

"No," Rachel denied, flustered, "I am going to make my strategic withdrawal now, Admiral."

"Good choice, Dr. Scott."

"Good night, Tom,"

"Good night, Rachel, sweet dreams," he returned.

Lying on his bed staring at the stars, he felt his chest tighten. The stars reminded him of his lost children. Lately, everything seemed to remind him of his loss. I will make them pay. They would wish that they were dead. I swear this to you, Ashley, Sam and Dad.

His only consolation was to know that Rachel was alive, sleeping in the next bedroom. A smile came to his lips as he remembered her confession. Her flushed cheeks and her vulnerability were enchanting as is everything about her. He fell asleep with the image of her in his mind.

* * *

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	6. Dreams & Nightmares

**Dreams & Nightmares**

The next morning she woke up to the smell of pancakes. She opened her eyes and glanced at the clock beside the bed. It was only 5:00 AM, too early for breakfast. But the scent coming from the kitchen was very inviting. She went downstairs and found Tom in the kitchen making breakfast. On the table, there were coffee, orange juice, and a stack of pancakes.

"Sorry if I woke you up," Tom greeted her with a warm smile.

"You did not wake me up. The smell of pancakes woke me up. For whom is this banquet?" Rachel asked as she sat down on one of the chairs.

"They're just pancakes and coffee, though I think you'd rather have tea." He responded, adding a pancake onto the top of the pile on a plate next to the stove. He turned off the stove and took the plate of pancakes to the table. He sat across from her.

"I've never eaten this much for breakfast," she commented, getting a glass and pouring herself some orange juice. "Lucky for us, this house has a small orchard with a vegetable garden and greenhouse.

"Unfortunately, the food supply chain is still not as stable as before," he said.

Rachel looked at Tom. He looked tired and probably had not had a good night's sleep. "How did you sleep last night?"

"Lately sleeping has become a difficult task, my mind seems to have a life of its own. Don't worry though, I sleep enough."

She doubt it, his tiredness was not only physical. He carries his weariness from his soul. Children are symbols of the parent's continuity. The deaths of Ashley and Sam means cutting off the last bond that bound him to the wife he had loved and lost so abruptly. She wished there were something she could do for him, something she could say to ease his pain, but there was nothing.

"Where are Jackson and Rodriguez?" she asks, looking around.

"Outside. They will come in as soon as they are ready for breakfast," he replied as he put three pancakes on a plate, fresh blackberries on top of them and poured a generous helping of syrup on top.

She is happy to note that at least he is hungry. Although the food is not very healthy, Tom is in very good shape and a little sugar will not harm his physique.

"Eat these pancakes," Tom offered the plate back in front of her.

"Tom, that's a lot of sugar, I'm going to have to run several miles to get rid of all those calories. I can't eat all that," Rachel protested at the proffered plate.

"You are in good shape; in fact you seem to have lost weight in the last months. Eating and sleeping was never one of your priorities from what I saw last night, that did not change. Now eat up," he ordered playfully.

"Yes, Commander," she answered and cuts a piece of the pancake, jabbed with the fork one piece of the fruit, along with the syrup and puts it in her mouth. The mixture of pancake with fruit and syrup, as she bit into them was quite soft and creamy. They practically melted into her mouth.

Tom watched her cut her pancakes into tiny pieces and then chew with obvious pleasure.

"So you like pancakes?" he asked while sipping his coffee, his posted relaxed, a satisfied smile on his lips.

"I never said I didn't like it," she responded between bites.

He raised his left eyebrow as his smile widened.

"OK—all right—I'll admit these are THE best pancakes I've ever eaten. I didn't know you could cook so well, Tom."

"At your service, Madame. But don't get so excited, I only know how to cook pancakes and pasta," he confessed.

At that moment, the two soldiers entered through the kitchen door. "Good morning, ," they said together.

"Good morning," she returned their greeting.

Tom invited the two to sit down and join them for breakfast.

Rachel smiled to see them comply with the order with enthusiasm. Then she watched as each of them took a plate and placed their pancakes with generous servings of fruit and syrup on top. They had a few minutes of near silence as each one enjoyed their breakfast.

Jackson stood up from the table followed by Rodriguez. Both of them rinsed their plates and dishes and put their respective places on the table in order. She was surprised at how fast all the food had disappeared so quickly. ,

"We shall clean up this kitchen, Sir, while you and Dr. Scott go for a walk. It's the least we can do for the cooking that you did," Rodriguez told his Commander.

Rachel rolled her eyes. Prior to Tom's arrival, she had managed to convince them to call her by the first name, but now in the presence of their Commander, they have returned to addressing her as Doctor.

"I'll accept the offer from you guys, thanks. Rachel, what do you think?"

"Why not? A walk will do me well, after eating so much sugar."

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It was so nice to just walk beside her, feel the ocean breeze of the morning, listening to the noise of the waves. Everything brought him a sense of peace and he almost felt happy. But this feeling made him feel guilty too as his family has died so recently. _Should I feel this way?_ He asked himself.

She turns to glance at him and noticed that he is looking out to the sea. His eyes far away, lost, distressed.

"Why do you like to cook pancakes specifically?" Rachel decided to ask him.

He looked to her and answered the question. "My mother made pancakes for my father whenever he came back from a mission to celebrate his return; it was a kind of a family tradition. I decided to keep this tradition. I just changed it a bit. I cooked for my children, sometimes they would wake up with the smell of pancakes and they will know that I am home. That I had returned to them, that our family was complete again."

"It's a lovely idea, Tom. But why did your mother make pancakes?"

"It has a somewhat long story behind it, if you don't mind listening."

"Look around you, time is all we have now. Go ahead and regale me with Chandler Family stories. It should be interesting," Rachel invited him.

He looked at the beautiful landscape around, majestic red peaks and the turquoise blue waters of the sea, the white sand beneath his feet, to the palm trees swaying in the wind a few steps away and back to Rachel who awaited his response with expectation.

"We'd better sit there," he said, pointing to a tree that rises majestically amid the palm trees.

They settled under the shade of the tree, their legs almost touching.

"Well, my mother was a nurse, her name was Theresa. My father went to the hospital to donate blood and it was when he first saw her. He said it was love at first sight. He returned to the hospital for days with more ragged excuses, just to see her. Trying to convince her to give him a chance."

"Wow, Jed was fast."

"Yeah. But my mother said **No**."

"Why? She didn't like him?"

"That's the tricky part. She had been warned by my grandmother that soldiers did not make good husbands, they were always absent, that she would eventually raise her children by herself."

"He did not give up; otherwise, you would not be here," Rachel observed.

"He was a soldier, and decided to think like one, thought a bolder strategy would be more efficient."

"What did he do?"

"You see, my dad liked to cook and he did it very well. So, with the help of one of my mother's friends, he planned a romantic picnic. Her friend would just have to take her to the park and he would do the rest. He had cooked all of her favorite dishes, especially the pancakes she adored."

"Did she say yes?"

He broke a little smirk. "No. She agreed to share the meal with him, making it clear that it was not a date. But that they could be friends."

"Most guys cannot be friends with a girl, especially if he finds her attractive and charming. And from what you say, your father seemed very interested," Rachel told Tom with a smile on her face.

"Yeah. Of course, he accepted her terms, being a friend would allow him to spend more time with her, get to know her better, and show that he was a perfect guy for a boyfriend. They were married six months later. The children heard this story many times and Darien thought it romantic."

"I have to agree with her, the story is romantic. Very sweet."

"I knew you would like this, there's more. My mother said that she had fallen in love with my father because of his decided manner and because of the cute dimples that appeared when he smiled at her. He would always roll his eyes and reply that he had no dimples."

"It seems that your parents had a happy marriage."

"Yes, but it was not always a bed of roses, my grandmother was right at one point, my father was usually absent, my mother did most of the work of raising us alone."

"No matter what the problems, they were able to solve them. You are the greatest testimony of this, a good man who surely they would have taken pride in."

He gave Rachel a sad smile. "Even after what I told you yesterday?"

"What I like about you has not changed, Tom."

"And what would it be?"

"The cute little dimples you have," she teased him. Then she placed the palm of her hand on his chest, beneath her fingertips she could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady. "Your heart is in the right place, even if you doubt it."

"Whenever something upsetting happened to me, my little sister said, you're a good man, you're not allowed to doubt it. Emily was the youngest of the family and she saw me as the invincible older brother. Well, until she grew up and I started scaring off her suitors from becoming her boyfriends," he smiled at the memory.

"Poor girl. What is the age gap between you and your sister?"

"7 years. My little sister could always escape my vigilance and that of Andrew, too. My other brother. Andy followed in the footsteps of our father and chose the army while our sister was a nurse like our mother."

"So, you were the rebel of the family."

"Not so rebellious, huh? I joined the family business. I cannot judge my father because I made the same mistakes."

"What are you talking about?" Rachel asked with a frown.

"I focused on my career. As I climbed the hierarchy, my wife and children, I do not know, I feel I did not give them the attention they deserved."

"I spent almost twenty-four hours a day with my father and I did not feel loved anymore because of it. I know it sounds cliché, but the question is not the amount of time, but the quality. I had little contact with your children, for me they looked like happy children, and they loved you very much."

"Darien wanted a divorce," he confessed. "I promised her that the mission in the Arctic would be the last one, that when I returned I would accept a bureaucratic service that would allow me to stay at home longer."

"Would you be happy in a bureaucratic service?"

"Having my wife and children close to me would make me happy, Rachel."

"You loved her very much, didn't you? Darien, I mean?"

Their eyes met and locked and he felt an intense, almost uncontrollable desire to tell the truth. "Yes, so much that I thought I would never be able to feel the same again, but I was wrong, I…" he looked away for a second, "Jackson?"

"What?" she asked, confused, until she realized that he was looking at the soldier walking towards them.

"Sir, I am sorry to interrupt, but the President wants to have a word with you."

"Some problem?" she asked as she moved to stand up.

"No, ma'am, he told assured us that everything is under control. He says he only needs to have a word with the Admiral."

"Can we talk later?" Tom asks, standing up and offering a hand to help her get up.

"Of course."

As they walk back to the house, he was not sure whether to thank or curse the interruption. He almost said the words and then there would be no way of getting them back. Tom had never felt so _bloody_ divided in his whole life _,_ because for the first time in a long time, he did not know what to do. To whom he should listen to, his duty, honor, or his heart.

Darien had been a lucky woman and his second wife too, because Tom was a very intense man in his affections, if he had married again it is because he is in love.

When they got home, she went up to her bedroom and he went to speak with President Michener.

Sitting on one of the deck chairs, Tom had full of doubts in his mind. There was friendship between him and Rachel. At the same time, the physical attraction was as strong as ever.

Then he remembered when she kissed him to pass the note. He lost all sense of the enemies that surrounded them. His entire body felt alive, his blood running faster in his veins and his skin seemed to sizzle in anticipation. Only the handcuffs on his wrists prevented him from taking her in his arms. A fleeting thought crossed his mind. What if?

For him Rachel was an enigma, one he longed desperately to decipher. But there was something else troubling him and maybe one the soldiers could help him.

"Jackson is preparing lunch, it's his turn to cook," Rodriguez said approaching him.

"Rodriguez, let's take a walk, I need to talk to you."

Realizing that his commander might not want to speak close to the house, Rodriguez followed him. When they was a good distance from the house, he asked, "Is this is about Dr. Scott's safety? Do you want to review our security scheme, Sir?"

"You're doing a good job, I trust you."

There was pride in his voice as he answered, "Thank you, Sir."

"I need to know about the period after she was shot. She suffered a very severe trauma; I need to make sure she's okay and not just physically."

"Are you talking about flashbacks and PTSD, Sir?"

"Exactly. I don't want you to feel obligated to tell me because I'm your commander. As a friend, I just want to be able to help her."

"I understand, Sir. There were some isolated episodes and she had some nightmares and always woke up screaming the words, sic semper tyrannis."

"That's what the bastard said before he shot her. I guarantee that the place where he is now, he cannot hurt her or anybody else anymore."

"Is he in jail, Sir?"

"No." The somber expression that accompanied the answer made Rodriguez feel a tingling sensation slide down his spine. Stupid question, Mathias. He almost felt sorry for the guy, almost. The commander's sense of honor was well known among the crew, but they also knew how ruthless he could be to protect one of them. And Dr. Rachel Scott is definitely one of them.

Rodriguez cleared his throat. "Well then… Tex could always calm her down and she went back to sleep. When she got stronger she demanded that she need to work. Dr. Milowsky and Tex thought she was not ready. She got tired easily and she felt pain even though she tried to hide it from us. But you know she can be…"

"Stubborn." Then Tom says with absolute conviction. "They gave in to her demands."

"Yeah. It's good that she is like this, because the first few days we were not sure she would survive, her condition was critical, well, for a while we thought the lie would come true. Tex never doubted, he always said she was strong, that she was too stubborn to give up."

"Tex was a good man and a good friend, always had a smile on his face and a little story to tell."

"He was, Sir. When she was in a coma, he would always talk to her, tell jokes, or simply read to her."

"What did he read to her?"

"Mostly some of the reports she had written. We brought her research data. I think he read some wrong words on purpose, she woke up when was reading one these words. When she understood what had happened, she asked if anyone else had been injured, in fact she asked if you had been injured."

"We talked a few minutes before she was shot; she probably thought I was at risk, too. She was easier target, without escort, defenseless before an enemy who wanted to kill her."

"It was not your fault, Sir."

After getting no response, he said. "For weeks she has had no nightmares. I could say that she sleeps and eats properly, but you know her."

"Rachel gets so absorbed in her work that she simply forgets to eat."

"Sometimes one of us takes a tray for her in the bedroom. Dr. Scott is fine; the little things that make her who she is are still there."

He watches the eyes of his Captain lost in the distance, maybe he needs to be alone with his thoughts.

"Sir, If you don't need me anymore, I'd better try to save our lunch. Jackson is a disaster in the kitchen."

"Thanks. Go ahead; I'll stay here for a while longer."

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"I brought your lunch, Rachel," he said, setting the tray down on the table in her bedroom.

She looked up from her computer screen in surprise. "Tom, what are you doing here?"

"I knocked three times on the door, but you did not answer," he explained. "You forgot to eat, again. Rachel, it's already half past two."

"I just need two minutes to finish this," she says, turning her eyes to the computer screen.

"No, turn off the computer and eat your lunch now, Dr. Scott," he ordered to her.

"Tom," Rachel said, looking partly amused and partly exasperated. "You can't give me orders and you certainly can't tell me when to eat."

"Please, eat, I promise that afterwards I'll leave you alone," he said with his most charming smile.

 _Damn! The man can be very convincing and charming when he wants._

She sighed but capitulated. "Fine, you win." Then she took the spoon and began to eat.

 _It's Jackson's cooking day, he only knows how to make soup._

While she was eating, she watched him running his fingers over the edges of the books lined up on the shelf, saying aloud the titles of books, "Anna Karenina, Wuthering Heights, Romeo & Juliet, Madame Bovary, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Othello, The Count of Monte Cristo. It seems that someone likes tragic romances."

"Don't look at me. The books were already here when I arrived."

"Have you never read any of these books?"

"They are classic books that have been masterfully written, of course I've read them. The books that are on the second shelf are more to your liking, I think."

The Book of Five Rings: Miyamoto Musashi, The History of the Peloponnesian War, by Thucydides, The Persian Expedition by Xenophon, The Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World: From Marathon to Waterloo, Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World. There were also fiction books and several children's books.

"Who owns this house?" he asked, taking the last book off the shelf.

"Her name was Isabeau Navarre; she wrote and illustrated children's books. Her favorite flower was the orchid, her favorite color was turquoise and she liked lemon tart."

"How do you know that?" he asked while flipping through the book in his hands.

"I found her diary." _I like your company, how he makes me feel, the way he smiles at me. But as my love for him grows, I feel the almost suffocating fear of losing him._ _I'm afraid my Jacob will die. Why did I fall in love with a soldier?_

"Interesting history…Isabeau, I mean," he said, looking at her.

 _I suffered another_ _ _miscarriage_. My Jacob deserves to hold a child in his arms, but maybe I will never be able to give him a child._

"She fell in love, married and divorced in a space of three years. It seems that the marriage did not survive the problems of real life. She could not keep a pregnancy."

"He was an asshole if he abandoned her for it. What?" he asked when he saw her enigmatic smile.

"She left him, thinking that he deserved to be a father. That he deserved to have a complete family. A family she could not give him."

"It was selfish of her to decide for him. She should have trusted in his love for her," he said.

" _Sometimes, my mind does not agree with my heart."_

"What?"

"It was something she wrote," Rachel replied

"I know how it is," he whispered. "Well, I'm going to read this book and will leave you alone so you can work."

 _I would do anything to stay close to him, even knowing that he now belongs to another. He is not mine anymore._ _My head knows it, but my heart refuses to hear the voice of reason_. _It was my fault our marriage failed; my insecurities pushed him away from me._

"Stay."

"Are you sure that I will not disturb you?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

He looked around for a chair but the only chair in the bedroom is the one she is sitting on.

"You can use the bed," she says with her eyes on the computer screen.

He settled into bed with the book in his hands and plunged into the magical world of words. In the background, he could hear her fingers tapping the keyboard. The hours passed quickly, the sunlight replaced by the mantle of the night.

When her eyes started to ache, she finally turned off the computer. Then, she closed her eyes and tried to release the tension in her back, neck, and shoulders.

"You should not have been sitting in front of the computer for so long," Tom said behind her, his hands on her shoulders and started massaging them.

She inclined her head with her eyes still closed and moaned with satisfaction. "Oh God! That's really good, further left…"

Watching her closed eyes, hearing her little groans of pleasure, feeling her soft hair in his hands, he closed his eyes and leaned closer, wondering what it would be like to kiss her lips. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he opened his eyes, startled.

"Why don't you take a warm bath? It can help you relax." He advised.

She suddenly realized that tension in his hands and that his voice was strangely hoarse. She sighed, getting up from the chair, avoiding looking directly at him. "I think you're right. See you at dinner." Then she moved towards the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

When the door closed, he grabbed the book he had left on the bed and walked toward the bedroom door, murmuring to himself. _"I need a cold shower. God, what is happening to me? You know full well what's going on. The woman you love is within your reach. A beautiful aphrodisiac in front of you."_ An annoying voice in his head told him.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, shut up," he replied.

They had dinner together with the soldiers, the four of them exchanging stories. She told them about the countries she had visited as a child in the travels with her missionary parents. Rodriguez recounted that his grandmother raised him and that she had taught him how to cook. Jackson talked about his younger brother who loved to play soccer. Tom shared some of his childhood stories with his siblings.

A little later, everyone went to bed.

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"Go to him, he needs you," Rachel woke up with someone whispering in her ear.

He is dreaming again. In a chapel, he approaches two white coffins. His children looking peaceful as if they were asleep, but they were not asleep, because there was a bullet hole in each of them. The shot had been given with surgical precision, death had been rapid, at least that's what the autopsy report said. "Ashley, Sam, forgive me," he begged with tears falling from his eyes.

The sense of anguish was threatening to smother him, he wanted to escape, but his feet seemed to be pinned to the ground. The pressure in his chest increased again and again until he could not breathe.

From a great distance, as if he was underwater, he heard his name being called, so he focused on that voice. Gradually, he felt the pressure in his chest diminish and he can breathe again.

He felt her presence even before he woke up completely. When he opened his eyes, he found Rachel sitting next to him on the bed, stroking his hair and talking to him.

He rose to a sitting position, his feet touching the floor.

"Tom, I'm here…"

Still staring at the floor, tears falling from his eyes, he said, "The most important mission of my life, I failed. What kind of father am I? I could not protect my family, my own flesh and blood. My father, Ashley and Sam, my babies, I failed them, Rachel."

Sitting next to him she said, "Tom, look at me," he obeyed and found her brown eyes moist because of the tears, but full of determination. "It's not your fault," she said fiercely, her hands on either side of his face.

He hugged her tight, his tears continued to fall, now that the floodgates have been opened it seems he cannot stop crying. When he finally managed to stop crying, he lied on his side with his head nestled on her lap.

Her long hair falling forward like a cascade of silk tickled his neck as she kissed his forehead. It was a kiss meant to give solace. He held out a hand and touched her hair letting his fingers slip between the strands.

He does not want to talk; he does not want to be reminded of what he lost because it is too painful, he wants peace, he just wants to be able to hold her in his arms.

He lifted his head from her lap and asked in an uncertain voice. "Rachel, can I ask you for something?"

"Anything you need."

"Can you sleep with me?" She was silent; the request seemed to surprise her.

"I don't mean to have sex. I just want to sleep, to be beside you."

She slid her body into a lying position with her back to him. He followed suit and spooned his body to hers, hugging her close to him. She relaxed into his embrace.

He kissed her hair and gently whispered in her ear, "Thank you, Rachel."

A few minutes later the change in his breathing told her he had fallen asleep. She fell asleep feeling his warm breath on her neck, his hands around her, his strong body that to fit perfectly with hers.


	7. A STORM ARRIVES

**Author's Notes: Life became a bit too busy for JOYS OF OCTOBER that it took a while for her to edit this Chapter. Nevertheless, here it is. We hope that you will enjoy this Chapter and provide a feedback at the end. This is still in the past.**

 **Next chapter will be rated M to be written by JOYS OF OCTOBER.**

* * *

 **A Storm Arrives**

"Is Tom already up?" she asked, after all she could not tell them that she had slept in Tom's arms.

"Yes, ma'am, he went swimming."

"Swimming? The water must be freezing at this hour."

"We are sailors, ma'am, the water temperature is no problem."

When he woke up he noticed that during the night their positions had changed and she was facing him. He stayed there for a long time watching her sleep. And wondered when he'd begun to love Rachel. Perhaps the answer to this question is not clear. But he knows exactly when he realized that his feelings were stronger than simple friendship. The answer was Baltimore. There, he had lost Darien and there he saw Rachel, really saw her.

At that time he was completely confused, all mixed feelings, but now watching her sleep, her hands holding the material of his T-shirt, he had no doubt in his heart of what he feels. He loves Rachel. He just does not know what to do with it.

He needs to get out of this bed and get away from the temptation she represents. He knew he would soon lose her again. He wanted to feel her in a way that only lovers are able to feel. Needed to touch, kiss, and love her. He had made a promise that they would just sleep together and nothing more. He cannot break that promise.

Watching Tom swim, it's clear he's in his element. He swam effortlessly, with grace and agility. He plunged completely below the water, emerging a moment later and blinked the water from his eyes. It was then that he saw her.

As he stepped out of the water and walked towards her, she could not deny that he was a handsome male specimen, and that she had been physically attracted to him from the first moment she saw him,strong, self-confident, and so comfortable in his own skin _._

Rachel hands him a towel, taking two steps back. "You may be accustomed to freezing water, but I'm not. I do not want to get wet."

"Why don't you come here?" he said and made a move to embrace her.

"Thomas Chandler, don't you dare!"

"Where is your sense of adventure, Rachel?" As he said these words, he advanced towards her. She recoils until she is trapped between his body and the stone wall.

She puts a hand on his bare chest. "Do not even think about it. I'm not looking forward to swimming in this freezing water, thanks."

They stared at each other, and suddenly the air between them was charged of tension. At her fingertips she could feel an increase in his heart rate. Rachel's hand which was stretched across his chest to keep him at bay, kept in contact with wet skin as he took two more steps toward her. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out. The desire he saw in her eyes mirrored his feelings. Thoughtfully, without taking his eyes from hers, he held up between his fingers a loose lock of hair that had escaped her braid. She bit her lip and his eyes darkened dangerously. Then abruptly he backed down to pick up the towel that had fallen to the sand.

"Thank you for yesterday, Rachel. I slept like a rock. Well, until your snores woke me up," he smiled at her as he wiped water from his head and chest..

Rachel realized what he was doing, the joke was a way to dispel the tension between them, so she played with him. "I don't make snore at all," she protested. "My lord, I'm the granddaughter of an earl," she says, exaggerating in her British accent.

"You are?" she smiled at him, but did not answer. "I'm just kidding with you, Rachel, you sleep like an angel."

"I know, my lord," she replied and gave him a bow. "Come on, you need to move inside and drink something hot before you catch pneumonia."

"This is not the first time I swam in cold water, " he says as he puts on his T-shirt.

She rolled her eyes and he heard her murmur, "Men."

For him it was getting harder to resist the appeals of his heart. He feels like Odysseus who asked to be tied to the ship's mast because he knew he could not resist the mermaid's song. He doesn't know how long he can resist, the rope that bind him, his marriage, is not strong enough.

When they arrived back at the house, he went to his room to change while she prepared breakfast.

"The boat is ready; we're ready to go, sir," Jackson said.

"They go to the city to replenish the supplies," Tom explained.

"Do you need us to bring something specific from the city, Dr. Scott?" Jackson asked.

"Wait! Are you two going to town?" she asked in surprise.

"We're both going to the city, with the Admiral here, you'll be safe even if we're out," Rodriguez explained.

"I do not doubt it; I know I'm safe with Tom, as I would be with one of you. I'm just surprised; you two treat me like a damsel in distress almost all the time."

"It is an honor to take care of your safety, Ma'am," Jackson said.

"I agree," Rodriguez said solemnly.

"Thanks, guys. But I'm glad that you have a break from your babysitting duties. As I have said to your commander, a golden cage is still a cage."

Before leaving with Jackson, Rodriguez told her, "Maybe while we're out, the Admiral can continue with your lessons. He is better qualified than both of us."

"What were they teaching you?" Tom asked after the soldiers left while they were having breakfast opposite each other on the kitchen table.

"They've been trying to teach me self-defense. I will not have one of you by my side all the time; I need to learn to defend myself. I don't want to feel helpless like I felt that night. "

"He's dead, he'll never hurt you again," Tom said fiercely.

"I know. But there are other monsters out there. I want to, no, I need to make sure that if something happens again, I'll be prepared."

He felt a tightness in his chest at the thought of the simple possibility of her getting hurt again. "What have they taught you so far?"

"Basic movements of self-defense, they both fear that they will hurt me, so the training is going very slowly. I'm actually more interested in learning how to shoot a gun correctly. I'll never be as effective as one of you in hand-to-hand combat."

"I do not want to disappoint you, but a soldier works inside a unit, we're practically never alone. Using our fists is our ultimate resource."

"But you could kill with your bare hands if necessary or disarm an opponent, right?"

"Depending on the situation, the answer is yes. I was trained how to be lethal to my enemies and I'm very good at it. But a weapon is a better resource than hands for sure."

"Indiana Jones?"

"What?"

"I remembered a scene from that movie when Indiana Jones was in front of the opponent armed with a sword and he simply shot him."

"I remember that scene as well; I think everyone thought the guy was going to use the whip. Fighting with someone who was certainly good with that sword, he would end up dead. But of course everyone was expecting a fight."

"The fun sometimes is in the possibility of distancing itself from reality. In movies and books, one can create a new and exciting world."

"Reality is much harder than fantasy. People really die, the blood is real, the pain is real, Rachel," Tom told her softly.

"I know," she says putting a hand on her chest, where he imagines the scar would be. "I really need to learn how to defend myself and you are the right person to teach me, Tom."

"I can do that," he said.

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"This is a Beretta M9 9mm. It's standard navy gun, easy to use and reliable. But first you must learn how to disassemble and clean the gun. A gun, as modern as it is, without proper maintenance, is a risk and becomes useless when you need it," Tom informed Rachel as he held a gun before her.

When he was sure she could properly clean the gun, they went outside so she could practice firing on a target. He showed her how to properly hold the gun, how to stand in the right shooting position, how to aim at the target.

Watching him shoot the target accurately, she began to doubt that she could be as effective as he was. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes.

"Don't worry, you can do it. With training, you become efficient with a weapon, reacting instinctively in a risky situation. You had no problem shooting the Russian officer; your shot was perfect, even though you were quite nervous."

"That was desperation coupled with my instinct for survival. When I shot him the first time, I just wanted to stop him. I cannot forget the look of shock on his face and then I knew that the only way to stop him would be to kill him."

"You did what was necessary, if we had to rescue you from Ruskov, the whole mission would have been a failure. Look, you don't have to kill, but you can learn to incapacitate the enemy so you can escape."

Looking at the gun in Tom's hands, she remembered the times she had to kill on the mission , to protect herself and others. Niels was a monster, he had deserved to die. Everything has changed and nothing will ever be the same again. It was strange to think that she had studied all her life to save lives and now she wanted to learn how to take lives. She does not like the feeling that something has changed inside her, but to survive in this new world she needs to adapt.

"Right, give me that gun," she said, holding out her hand.

"You have to be relaxed when you're holding a gun, Rachel. The grip should be firm but not tight. There is no hurry. Control your breathing. Shoot when you're ready."

She took three shots and missed every time. "Why it is so easy for you?" she complained, frustrated.

"Because I have had years of practice and maybe because I keep my eyes open when I shoot," Tom winked and grinned at her.

"I did close my eyes! " she denied hotly, giving him a glare.

"You closed your left eye. Okay, try again, relax your arms, the gun has to feel like an extension of your arms, breathe, adjust the position of your feet as I showed you, that's it. And Rachel, keep your eyes open this time."

"You're having too much fun with this," she grumbled.

 _You cannot imagine how much, sweetheart,_ he thinks. He likes everything in her, including the exasperated look she's giving him now, because he cannot keep the smile off his face.

She did what he said, but continued to have difficulty hitting the target. Maybe she just was not good with a gun. Maybe she should try personal defense training. But for that she would be very close to him, close contact. No, playing with fire is definitely not a good idea.

"Maybe if I remember that bastard who shot me, I could shoot better."

"No, do not do that. See only a faceless target, if you think that, about your enemy you may lose objectivity. Give me the gun and let me show you how to do it again." Then he prepares, exhales slowly and looks at the target and shoots, hitting the target every time. And then returned the gun to her.

She pulled the trigger three times, but target remained unscathed. The trees around it were hit instead.

"Okay, let's try something different," he says, positioning himself behind her. Very close. He placed his hands over hers, adjusted her grip on the gun. "One of your problem is that you put a lot of pressure. Try to relax and let the gun feel comfortable on your hands. Try again."

How she could relax when she can feel him so close. His breath fanning her hair. She tries to focus on what she's doing, but it's likely she will not hit a pink elephant if one of them appears in front of her now.

This is far from being the standard procedure when teaching someone to shoot. He's playing with fire and he knows it. Back off, Chandler, your job is just to help her and not complicate things. Before he stepped away, he does not resist provoking her. "I do not bite, Rachel."

Without thinking, she responds to the provocation, the words slipping from her mouth. "It would not be a problem if you did." Then she pulls the trigger, missed the first two shots, but hit the other three shots close to the target.

"Not bad. You're getting better. See, you just needed the right incentive," there was a hint of teasing in his voice.

Rachel decided to ignore him, his playful side is not something that she is familiar with. But something that she is beginning to like very much despite knowing that she should not entertain such thoughts. She is not that strong, it is best to keep away from temptation. She practiced a few more times and the gun was feeling more comfortable in her hands. She would never be a sniper, but at least she could already hit a target.

They returned home and prepared lunch, then went to the patio to enjoy the meal and beautiful view that surrounded them.

After some time heavy clouds began to appear on the horizon and the wind began to blow stronger. "Looks like it's going to rain, Tom."

"This is not just rain. I think there's a storm coming, we'd better get in," he replied while standing up.

When she entered the kitchen, she felt a headache coming on. She rubbed her fingers over her temples trying to ease the discomfort.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked as he noted her expression of pain.

"No. My head hurts," she whispered.

"Where are your pain pills?"

When she did not respond immediately, he insisted, "Rachel?"

"They ran out last week. Don't worry about it; Chamomile tea can relieve headaches as quickly as painkillers," she said while heading towards a cupboard and opening it looking for her tea.

"I'll make your tea. Go lie down, Rachel."

Her headache showed up at the most inconvenient times, she thought as laid down on her bed.

A few minutes later, he entered Rachel's room with a cup in his hands. "Here's your tea, Rachel," said Tom, "Do drink it while it's hot."

She sat on the bed, cross-legged, and took the cup from Tom's hands. "Thanks." The tea was good, hot and sweet in the right measure. Under his worried gaze, she drank all the tea and then put the cup on the bedside table.

He wondered if the shooting lessons brought back painful memories as she ran her hand over her shoulder a second time, "Does that hurt?" he asked, concerned.

"It's not physical pain; it's more what the scar reminds me of. I just did not want to feel this way."

"How?" He asked gently.

"I shall never forget the feeling of utter helplessness that came over me as I felt my own blood drip between my fingers. So I thought, I'm going to die here alone. I've never felt so scared in my life," she confessed, her brown eyes welling up with tears.

In the weeks after her supposed death, in the darkest hours of the night, when he had difficulty relaxing and falling asleep, scenario after scenario played out in his mind. Each scenario was worse than the other. His heart stopped as he listened to her deepest fears. That she had felt alone in her final minutes.

He moved beside her and pulled her into his arms, his hands caressing her back, "I'm sorry, Rachel, I should have been there for you."

With her head nestled against his chest, she whispered to herself, _but you were not._ She sobbed and then the tears she was trying to hold, escaped freely and she cried nestled in the comfort of his embrace.

After some time, she slowly pulled away. "I'm all right now; normally I'm not like this mess, she said hoarsely, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she added and tried to smile at him, "It was not my intention to try to drown you in my tears."

"It's okay, if I can cry on your lap; you're allowed to cry in my arms."

"What a nice pair we are, huh?" she says, smiling through the tears and then she put her head back on his chest.

"The best, sweetheart. We are very good together. It was my job to protect you and I failed at that. I'm here for you now and I'll always be around. You won't ever be alone again, I promise you," he promised to her intensely, while holding her gaze.

 _No, you will not be._ She only has the here and now, the future as she had learned it in the most painful way, was uncertain. She likes the feeling of being in his arms, but the tenderness of the gesture caused a sadness, because she knows that the situation of being so close to him is temporary. Soon she would have to say goodbye to him.

Rachel let herself sink into his embrace for another moment before pulling away, and then she disengaged herself from his arms and lies down on the bed again, closing her eyes, looking for a more comfortable position on the bed.

He watches her, with her eyes closed, an expression of pain, and wishes there was something he could do. But he knows that the last thing a person with a headache wants is to talk, she just needs to relax in a quiet, dark place.

Closing the curtains would make no difference; the curtains were made of light, transparent material, a kind of white lace that floated in the breeze, beautiful as a decorative item, useless to prevent light from entering.

Then he walked over to the bookshelf, picked up one of the books from the shelf and placed the chair next to her bed.

He finds inside the book a notebook full of poems and notes written in beautiful calligraphy. " It seems that your friend liked poetry, too," he says in a low voice, "I know some of these."

He flips through the notebook full of poems. Wild Nights! Wild Nights! By Emily Dickinson, Rain Flogs My Face by Bella Akhmadulina, Love is a fire that burns without being seen by Luís Vaz de Camões, Sonnet of Separation by Vinicius de Moraes, Pablo Neruda: Night on the Island…

With her eyes closed, she is almost asleep, on the border between consciousness and sleep. She listens as he sits, murmuring something about poems.

She felt a smile spread across her face as she imagined him reading poetry with that baritone voice. That would turn any woman's heart to mush.

He thought she was already asleep and surprised to hear her say in a drowsy voice, a playful smile curving her lips. "Thomas Chandler, you read poems to try to impress the girls."

"Hell, no. I never had to resort to this trick to win a girl, they fell at my feet, I was irresistible at age 16," he said playfully.

She imagined him at age 16, arrogant and insecure as almost every teenager. No, she prefers this older, silver-haired version of Thomas Chandler. "Read to me, please," she requested softly from him, her eyes still closed.

He began to read in the order they were presented in the notebook, not realizing that his voice took on a more passionate tone.

Tom's voice trailing to a distant echo in her ears, and before falling asleep, she heard him say. "Ah - the Sea! Might I but moor - tonight -In thee."

SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH

She woke up a few hours later to the sound of the rain and smelled the wet earth. When she opened her eyes, she found him still in the same place, sitting on the chair, still reading.

"Hey, how do you feel?" he asked as he closed the book and leaned towards her. .

"I'm fine, my headache is gone," she said as she sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed.

"I'm happy to know that you're well. Actually, I was worried that you suffered from a bad flashback."

"No, no flashback," Rachel replied, shaking her head. "Has Rodriguez and Jackson already returned?" she asked as she looked at the heavy rain outside the window. The wind was howling and she can hear the crashing waves as well. She likes the rain, but she's not very fond of lightning. They make her nervous.

"No, but do not worry, they're experienced soldiers, they know it's safer to stay where they are. We are also safe, I already checked the doors and windows and the generator is working. The house is old, but very sturdy and well built." Tom assured her. "Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm not really hungry, but I think I can drink something hot."

"Can it be a cup of hot chocolate?" he suggested to her.

"That sounds great," Rachel smiled at Tom as he rose to leave the room.

Sitting on the sofa in the living room, they drank hot chocolate as they watched the torrential rain falling outside.

"Ashley liked the storms; I think she had a certain fascination for them. Perhaps because she heard me talk about some of the storms I saw at sea. This had aroused her interest. She was more like me, wanted to follow my steps and get into the navy. My baby was very brave; she tried to protect the brother."

"How did you feel when you saw her for the first time?" she asked, wanting him to remember good memories.

"Thanks for asking. Since they died, the people avoid talking about them with me, fearing that it might hurt me. Talking about them does not hurt, what hurts is their absence. They will always be a part of me and I do not want to forget them."

Rachel gave him a faint smile, encouraging him to continue.

After a small hesitation, he did. "I was on a mission when she was born; I only met her when she was three months old. My baby girl, she was the cutest, sweetest, perfect little person I'd ever seen in my life. I was afraid to hold her, afraid to hurt her, she looked so fragile. When I finally got the courage to hold her in my arms, I promised myself that I would be the best father in the world."

"I have no doubt you did your best. And Sam?"

"I was home when he was born, Darien had a complicated pregnancy, and he was born premature. The doctors did not give us much hope he would survive, but my Sam was a fighter and after a few weeks we managed to get him home. He was sweet as his mother. He liked to ride a bike, play with his favorite action figures and draw."

She smiled gently taking one of his hand in hers and interlaced their fingers, trying to comfort him. He sighed and gave her a sad smile.

Suddenly, they heard a loud sound of glass breaking as the lights went out.

"Stay where you are," he said, getting up from the couch as he groped in the dark, to get the flashlight he had left on the table. Idiot, you should have brought it with you. Damn it!" Tom cursed as he banged his knee against a solid object.

"Tom! "Rachel shouted as she heard him.

"I'm fine," he responded. "I just bumped into something," he assured her. At that moment, lightning struck the dark night, followed by a thunder so loud it made her instinctively shrink.

She also gets up from the couch, her hands outstretched for the wall. When her hands felt the wall, she walked cautiously in the dark following its direction. Seconds later a flashlight is turned on. She saw Tom with a flashlight in each hand.

"I need to check the generator again, or it may be that a fuse has blown," he said, walking towards her.

"I'll just check the windows up there," she said when he gave her a flashlight. _You can do this, it's just lightning and thunder, Rachel. It's perfectly safe in the house._

"I'd rather you stay here, I can check up there after taking a look at the generator."

"Tom, there is no enemy lurking in the dark, no one would be crazy to come here at this time, there's a storm outside."

It is raining, cold, dark, and the thunders are as loud as the wrath of God. To defy all this would be madness. "Okay, yell if you need help," he said, giving her a wink. It did not go unnoticed to him that she trembles every time she heard lightning and thunder. His courageous Rachel was afraid of lightning and thunder.

"Be careful out there," she reminded him.

He gives an affirmative nod and the two separate to fulfill their respective tasks.

A branch had broken the glass window in the bedroom occupied by the two soldiers. She used tape and plastic to make an improvised repair of the window, getting wet in the process. As she was checking her room, the lights came back. "Thank God," she whispered. She checked his room and when she was in the hall, they met again.

"Only a broken window in Jackson's and Rodriguez's bedroom," she informed him while wiping her wet tresses with a hand towel.

"I replaced the fuse, everything's fine now," he responded.

He watches with fascination as a drop of water dripped from her braid and meandered in the valley between her breasts. Her clothes were not as wet as his were, but allowed him to see the contours of her body. It was not what it showed, but what he imagined to be underneath it. When it comes to her, his imagination runs wild. The desire he was suppressing came back demanding to be satiated.

Lightning followed by thunder echoed in the night, but she is more concerned with the storm that she sees in his eyes. The desire is there again, even more stronger, almost primitive. To try to dispel the tension that had settled between them, she decided to use the same strategy he employed earlier, "You're soaked; I know that sailors like water, but you if you take this very seriously, maybe…"

His wild expression makes her forget what she was going to say, she feels her heart beating like a drum on her chest, her legs going wobbly, her throat becoming dry.

Without taking his eyes off hers, he pulls her into his arms. She tensed as she felt every inch of his body touching hers. Wet clothes intensifying the feeling of intimacy. She should be feeling cold, but the fire in his eyes is burning her.

"Please, Rachel, I need you so bad," he said, brushing his lips against hers. "If you don't want me to continue, tell me to stop. Just a kiss will not satisfy me, I want more."

She just nodded in agreement, her voice caught in her throat.

"Rachel?" he whispered, his lips hovering over hers.

Her answer to the question was to kiss him passionately, her lips showing more than any word would have expressed. He moaned in her mouth, his passion matching her own, but completely at her mercy, she made him crazy, but he quickly took control of the kiss. He wanted to love her slowly, without haste. And to hell with the consequences.

* * *

Hate it? Love it? Leave a word.


	8. Melding of Souls

**Author's Notes:** This is a rated "M" chapter. Proceed at your own risk. Apologies as it took some time for JOYS OF OCTOBER to write the "M" part of this chapter. As a reward for your wait, this Chapter is the longest that we have done so far.

Enjoy and don't forget to leave us your feedback!

* * *

 **Melding of Souls**

With his tongue, Tom gently swiped at Rachel's lips, asking for entry. He felt her lips part in welcome and taking advantage of the opening, he swooped in and started his exploration. He felt his whole body suffuse with warmth and fire. After such a long time, he felt alive. Alive and on fire for his desire for the woman in his arms. Electricity like the lightning flashing around them poured in his veins.

Tom drew Rachel ever closer to his body. He felt both of her arms around his neck and her hands running through his damp hair. While they were both busy alternately sucking on each other's tongue, his hands have slipped under her damp blouse. He delighted in discovering her unfettered breasts.

Rachel couldn't help tearing her mouth from Tom's to moan out loud her pleasure upon feeling his hands and fingers caressing her breasts. His mouth was relentless as he rained kisses on her neck, his tongue licking at her pulse points. Her nipples have become turgid, sensitive peaks and she can feel herself starting to get wet. The feeling of his arousal pressing intently on her added to the delirious desire she was feeling for him.

As Rachel was busy clawing his shirt off, Tom was busy laving her erect nipples through her thin clothing. The combination of his warm tongue and the wet cloth's friction was too much for her to bear. It was good that her two body guards were not in the house as her cries of pleasure would have been impossible to suppress what with all the eroticism that Tom is wreaking upon her body.

She pulled herself a little from him to try to get his wet shirt off. Sensing her motive, Tom immediately complied and threw his shirt aside. Before Rachel can even blink, she felt Tom remove her blouse and saw it join his shirt on the floor. The next thing she knew, Tom swept her off her feet and was carrying her towards his bedroom. She distinctly heard him kick the door shut behind them while he continued to kiss her. She felt herself being lowered to the bed and saw Tom standing over her, hurriedly unbuttoning his pants and kicking them off. Rachel saw his sizable arousal stretching taut his black boxers. As Rachel started to sit up to copy him, Tom moved towards her, stopping her hands.

"Let me," Tom rasped while brushing aside her fingers started pulling down her yoga pants. As he was pulling her pants off, Tom placed his warm lips just below her belly button and started licking fire towards the edge of her bikini. He skipped her core and continued licking her inner thighs until he disposed of her pants.

Raising himself up, he brushed Rachel's legs open and settled himself between them. From her belly button, Tom now made his way towards her breasts, now exposed in all their glory to his eyes, mouth and hands.

"Tom!" Rachel cried out and continued moaning at his vigorous sucking of her breast while a hand was caressing the other. He alternated his sucking and licking of her nipples and breasts, with her only able to cry out and cling to him as she accepted the pleasure he is bringing to her.

Tom was thankful for the storm as it muted Rachel's cries and his groans of pleasure. No way would his men not be able to hear them if they were in the house. While the storm raged outside, he and Rachel created their own erotic storm on his bed. He can feel Rachel's soft hands clutching at his arms or clinging to his back or grasping his head to her breasts. Her warmth and taste were aphrodisiacs on his tongue, spurring him on to discover the sensuality of the woman in his arms. He rose from his feasting on her breasts to meld their mouths again. He felt her answering lustiness which elicited groans of approval from him. He can feel his erection standing at almost painful attention for her. It felt as if it would burst through his boxers anytime soon.

Rachel felt one of Tom's hands inching beneath her bikini. She was dying of anticipation as to what he is going to do when he discovers what is hidden therein.

"Oh my God, Tom!" Rachel cried out panting heavily when she felt him trace her slit, bury his finger knuckle-deep in her depths and his thumb flick at her clit. "Oh God!"

"You're so wet, Rachel," Tom groaned in her ear, raining wet kisses on her face. "So hot and wet for me, baby."

Rachel can only moan and cry out as she continued to thrash on the bed. Tom's finger plunging in and out of her warm and slick canal. The friction bringing shivers that spread all over her body. Frantically, she reached beneath his boxers for his turgid manhood. Tom groaned aloud when he felt Rachel's warm hand clasping his throbbing erection.

"That feels so good, Rach….." he groaned at her lips before melding them for a long, wet and deep kiss. When they were forced to separate for air, Rachel continued to caress his erection and was scattering her own kisses from his throat to his chest, making little nips and licks on his muscles and nipples. Tom can feel his arousal climbing. Her hands and lips driving him made with desire to return the pleasure manifold.

"Ohhh…..Tom….." Rachel moaned in protest when she felt him separating from her and his fingers withdrawing from her depths. "Where…?"

"Ssshhhhh….," Tom whispered to her, "I'm not going anywhere. I just need to taste you before you make me lose control."

In order to pacify her, he gave her a swift, deep kiss before his lips trailed a sizzling path towards her core. Upon reaching her bikini, he pulled it off her and threw the piece behind him. With his face between her legs, Tom anchored both her legs on his shoulders and placed both of his thumbs at the juncture of her thighs. Rachel was trembling at the sight of his thumbs opening her nether lips and of Tom inhaling her essence deeply. He raised his head briefly to meet her eyes. Electric blue, stormy with desire.

At the first swipe of his tongue on her slit, Rachel's body tensed with the jolt of pleasure and she keened wildly when she felt Tom sucking her bud and his tongue probing her slit. "Tom! Oh my…..Tom…," Rachel can feel herself inundated with pleasure from Tom's mouth and tongue currently feasting on her core. Her juices flowing copiously, collected avidly by his tongue. Tom was relentless in his enjoyment of her pussy.

Tom can feel Rachel's heels trying to push him away from her core and her hands slapping on the bed while she was crying out in pleasure from his ministrations. His heart felt ready to explode in happiness. In the knowledge that he is able to bring her this pleasure. A balm to his weary soul. It made him even more determined to bring her to new heights.

He watched as a fine sheen of sweat covered her satin skin as her torso arched from the bed in delirious pleasure. Her wailing moans of his name, music to his ears. Removing his tongue from its exploration of her depths, he replaced it with this thick fingers. Burying them once again in her depths and tried to assuage her hunger. He can feel Rachel's inner muscles clamping on his digits as it traversed her passage.

Heaving himself up without removing his fingers from her channel, Tom returned to Rachel's breasts. With Tom's head within her reach, Rachel endowed him with hot kisses feverishly. He captured her mouth with his and they once again merged their hungry mouths together. With what was remaining of her wits, Rachel altogether removed Tom's boxers by pushing them off his hips by her feet and freeing his erection. She tried pushing Tom on his back and he acquiesced with her silent demand. Growling in protest, he removed his fingers from her depths.

Rachel followed Tom on his back, taking a deep breath to calm her libidinous desire. Finding herself astride his lower torso. Tom brought his fingers coated with her juices to her lips, skimming them and downwards. Rachel captured his hand and brought his forefinger to her mouth and started sucking on it. Tasting herself. Her lambent golden orbs locked on his cerulean ones.

" _Oh, fuck!...she's going to be the death of me…."_ Tom thought desperately as he watched Rachel sucking on his finger, feeling her soft tongue licking its entirety. Knowing that it is a prelude to something else that she's going to do on another part of his body.

Rachel observed Tom's flushed face, light sweat covering his muscled body. She felt so small against him, her thighs stretched wide to accommodate his size. Dropping his hand, she bestowed a swift kiss to his lips before he can respond and started licking, nipping and kissing from his neck towards his nipples. She unfurled and licked at them, much like what he did with hers. Tom's hands were busy rubbing on the expanse of her back to her butt. Softly kneading them as she worshipped his body.

Tom tensed as he felt Rachel's soft tendrils brushing against his thighs, her breath hot in his skin. He can feel his erection getting harder, if it was possible. Awaiting what she's going to do next.

"Rachel! Oh fuck…!" Tom roared as he felt Rachel's mouth cover his towering erection. "Oh baby…baby…Rach…...!"

Rachel reveled in the feeling of Tom's sudden tensing as she sucked on his cock. Her mouth and tongue tasting him and his warmth. Trying to return the pleasure he has brought to her. She felt a hand on her shoulder and another grasping her hair. Trying to control her flux and flow on his hard length. Now, it was his turn to ride the pleasure she was bestowing on him. When she has to come up for air and release his length from her lips, she held his rigid stalk and licked it with her tongue. Never giving him time to recover.

When she was about to envelope his pole once again in her mouth, Tom tugged on her hair preventing her from doing so. Looking up, she saw his piercing blues on her, "Tom….what…."

"That's enough, Rach," he softly commanded, "I need to be inside you…"

Pulling her towards him, Tom enveloped Rachel in his arms once again and began kissing her wildly while turning her over to be above her. Once again planting himself between her legs. Breaking off the kiss, Rachel felt Tom's hard staff at her entrance, she looked into his eyes as he began his entry into her waiting core.

"I have waited a long time for this, Rachel," Tom whispered to her.

"Me, too, Tom, me too…," she returned just as softly. She made a sudden intake of breath as she felt Tom's flesh embed itself. A feeling of fullness and completeness suffusing her being.

Rachel moaned into Tom's ears as she felt him begin to move, his fullness hitting all the right spots in her warm canal. Tom was groaning his pleasure in her ears as he began to piston in and out.

"You're so wet and tight, Rachel…..so warm…," he whispered hotly.

As the pleasure began to build, Tom can feel Rachel's hands at his back, clutching tightly at him, her legs wound tight around his hips. Feeling her muscles begin to clench and knowing that he couldn't hold off much longer, he started making deep and long thrusts, burying himself hilt deep. His thrusts were becoming more frantic as they both started their climb. He heard Rachel keen his name and her flesh clamping on his hard flesh buried in her. He followed her to the peak with a shout of her name.

Rachel struggled to open her eyes to see Tom's body clenched above hers as he reached his climax. Her name on his lips, his neck corded with the pleasure coursing through him.

" _I love you, Tom!"_ she told herself. Losing herself to the pleasure they made.

SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH

Rachel awoke slowly savoring the sensation of waking up in his arms, his breath on her neck, the way their bodies seemed to fit perfectly together.

The night before proved how much he wanted her. There was no hesitation; he did not stop to take a breath. His hands and lips so demanding. She looked out the window and sighed. She knew that sooner or later she would have to give up this illusion. Preferably later.

Carefully, not wanting to wake him, she turned in his arms and studied his face. He was sleeping deeply; it is probably the first time in days that he has slept so peacefully. He can be so strong, always the protector, who seems to have all the answers, but he has a vulnerable side, a side that he allowed her to see more than once.

She closed her eyes for a second and wondered what it would be like to wake up like this every day. She was reminded of a song that her mother sang to her in her childhood when she still believed in fairy tales and happy endings.

" _A dream is a wish your heart makes. When you're fast asleep… In dreams you lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep…."_

Stop acting like a fool in love, she rebuked herself in thought. "It's your fault," she said softly to the sleeping man.

Soon the sun would spread its glorious rays, and he would be reminded of the reality he had forgotten in the heat of passion. He has a wife waiting for him at home.

That's the problem with illusions, they always end. He cannot be hers, because the wedding ring that he wears is a symbol of the commitment he has with another woman.

She slipped out of bed, and as soon as her feet touched the cold floor, he began to move. She is not ready to talk to him, not yet. "Please don't wake up, please," she begs. He mumbles something but goes on sleeping.

She gets up and begins to collect the clothes scattered on the floor, dressing hastily still watching him sleep. Before leaving the bedroom, she gave him one last look. She softly closed the door behind her and then she headed to her own room.

SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH

He woke up alone in bed, still feeling the joy of being connected to her, the taste of her on his tongue, the smell of her skin and a bubble of happiness sprouted inside him. As he raised his hands to protect himself from the sun's rays coming through the window, his bubble burst.

A ray of sunshine was caught by his wedding ring, reminding him that his reality was another, that although his heart belonged to the woman with whom he had shared the night, he was a married man. He had committed himself to honor the woman who now wore an alliance similar to his.

 _He had never been impulsive_ in his life. But last night he had allowed himself to be only a man, he allowed himself to feel, he allowed himself to be happy, for the first time in a very long while. He threw caution to the wind.

He had always prided himself on being a man of principles, a faithful husband. His heart and his body have always have been 100% committed to the woman he was married to.

" _You do not love your wife,"_ the voice of his conscience whispered.

"She doesn't deserve that, none of them deserve it," he retorts.

" _You deserve a second chance to be happy with the woman you really love,"_ the annoying voice in his head insisted.

"How do you expect me to do this? Honey, how was the mission? Oh, by the way, I want to get a divorce, because Rachel, the woman that I thought to be dead, the woman I love, is actually alive. I don't need you anymore."

" _There are other ways to end a relationship."_

"No matter what words I use, I'm going to hurt her anyway."

" _Do you prefer to hurt Rachel then?"_

"No, of course not. I just wish it was possible to get out of this mess without hurting either them," he growled as he put a pillow over his head, trying to silence the annoying voice inside him.

" _Divorce is the only acceptable solution here."_

"I don't know if I can do this to her. Besides, I don't know what Rachel feels for me. I am not sure if she loves me."

" _Easy, ask her."_

"I can't. Damnit! I've never felt insecure in my life."

" _In your heart, what you fear is that Rachel does not return your feelings, so it's better to stay with the woman you're sure loves you. You're an idiot."_

"And you think I do not know that?" he responds by ending the conversation.

A few minutes later, he descends the stairs and finds her in the kitchen with a cup of tea cradled between her hands, standing by the window, watching the beautiful landscape.

The two soldiers were drinking coffee, sitting at the kitchen table. They both stood up when they saw their commander.

"Good morning, Sir!"

"Good morning Tom," she also greeted. Walking away from the window, she joined the soldiers at the table. Then she reached for the pot of tea and poured herself another cup. It was just an excuse to not have to look directly at him.

"Morning. Sit down and finish your coffee," Tom ordered. "When did you return from the city?" he asked while he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across Rachel.

"It's been two hours since we returned. With the storm we thought it was safer to stay in the city," Jackson said

"You did well," Tom replied

"We knew that with you here, Dr. Scott would be safe," Rodriguez added.

 _From the storm, yes, but not from me,_ he thinks, without taking his eyes off her. She on the other hand seemed to find the contents of her cup suddenly very interesting.

As she lifted her head, their eyes meet for an instant, and the familiar flame blazed.

Suddenly the air is charged with tension and the two soldiers could almost see the sparks flying between the Admiral and Dr. Scott. Rodriquez and Jackson looked at each other, both aware that something very strange had just occurred between the two.

"Oh, sir! I was almost forgot, I have a message for you. Mrs. Circe came back from the trip, and hopes to talk to you soon and she also said that she brought a guest with her, Sidney," Rodriguez said, seeming curious about who would be Circe, but as a good soldier, did not ask questions.

He felt as if a whip had hit him. _God! That complicates everything._ Circe is codename that the wife uses as an infiltration agent. To him the message was clear; his wife was back. With anguish, he remembered a conversation he had with his wife.

" _I_ _would like to have a child."_

" _We already have two children," he replied._

" _Yes, I love them with all my heart, but I would like to have a child of yours and mine, Tom. I even thought of a name, Sidney, for a boy or a girl."_

" _It's not the right time; things are very complicated now to have a child."_

The message means his wife is pregnant.

Rachel watched as his hands clutched the cup more tightly than necessary, an agony in his blue eyes and tension written on his face. It lasted only a second, then he leaned back on his chair, affecting a relaxed posture but he was not fooling anyone. Something was very wrong, she thinks with growing concern.

"Is something wrong, sir?" Rodriguez asked.

 _Everything!_ He screamed in his mind. To be honest with himself, he is not ready to have another child. His unborn child and his wife are not to blame for the emotional mess in which he is swimming in. But a child reminds him that as a parent he had failed spectacularly. Then Tom felt a sharp stab of guilt, because while his wife was risking her life on a dangerous mission, he was in the arms of another woman. He may have a lot of flaws, but running away from his responsibilities isn't one of them. Divorce is no longer an option.

"No. It's okay," Tom responded with a smile that looked more like a grimace.

She had never seen such guilty expression on someone's face as she saw in Tom's eyes when he looked directly into hers _._ _Who were Circe and Sidney?_ she asked herself. It was painful for her to witness the guilt he could not disguise. Then she lifted the barriers around her heart to protect herself from the pain that his rejection would bring. She tried to take a sip of tea, but her throat is too tight to swallow it.

His gaze is still locked on hers, sees her biting her lip. Vivid memories from the night before flooded his mind. He felt his uncontrollable desire to kiss her. Rationally he knows he has to put an end to something that has barely begun, but his heart does not seem to agree with his head at this time. _God! He's so screwed._

"Come on, Jackson. We need to take a walk outside," Rodriguez suddenly said.

"What? Why?" Jackson asks confused. "I'm not done eating yet."

"Jackson! Let's go!" Rodriguez said, giving Jackson a kick on the shin under the table and an exacting look. _We need to leave these two alone._

"Oh!"

Then two soldiers got up and walked out through the kitchen door. Their steps reverberating through the wooden walkway that led to the beach.

Trying to start a conversation with her, he commented, "Rodriguez is not exactly subtle."

"They are loyal to you. You have to be more careful, we do not want to give them the wrong impression."

 _I'm more worried about what's going through your head,_ he thought. Because he could not see in her eyes any sign of the passionate woman who had vibrated in his arms. He felt an abyss the size of the Grand Canyon between them.

As if needing to keep away from him, she got up from her chair, and approached the window again. If he did not know her well, he'd say she's running away from him.

Tom rose from his chair as well as he took one last sip of his coffee. Then he took two steps toward her and said her name softly, "Rachel."

When she turned to face him, her eyes are clouded with tension. "Rachel, I think we really need to—"

"—talk?" she murmured as she walked away from him with the excuse of putting her cup in the sink.

He followed and stood behind her, close enough that he could feel the heat of her body radiating against his own, close enough to lean in and press a kiss to her neck. She closed her eyes, willing him to move away and at the same time wanting him to stay close. He closed his eyes for a moment inhaling her familiar scent, he whispered against her hair, "I'm sorry, Rachel."

She turned around and leaned against the sink, trying to put some distance between herself and his disturbing presence. He was not touching her, but it was not necessary, she could feel the intense attraction that binds them. The attraction between them now is even stronger than before. Things between them would never be the same, and she could see in his eyes that he was very aware of that fact.

Without realizing it, the two of them came closer, and she felt herself drowning in those blue eyes. His body was practically screaming _I want you!_

"Tom," she said looking into his eyes, "Please, don't."

"I want to kiss you," he murmured, his mouth hovering above hers. "Don't you feel the same?"

"You know the answer to that question." Then she put the palm of her hand on his chest and pushed him away. "No matter what had happened last night, I will not be your mistress."

Tom looked shocked and insulted, "I would never make you into something like that."

"We cannot repeat last night's mistake. You're a married man," she continued.

"Forgive me. I think you want to hear some explanations."

"No, you don't owe me any explanations, Tom. We were just two people who have spent a night together, without expectations of a long-term relationship."

"I do not regret what happened between us, Rachel."

She raised an eyebrow as if asking, _are you sure?_

"Okay, I'm feeling guilty because there's someone else involved in this mess. I have wanted you for a long time. But all my life I've lived by a code and this code tells me that now I should do what is right."

 _I can only think that the right thing would be to ask for a divorce, because I love you, but I can't._

"Do you feel bad about betraying your wife?"

"Yes, I cannot forget that I promised fidelity to my wife..." he said, looking for an instant at the ring on his left hand. I broke those vows… "I did not even remember this ring yesterday, because I've never needed anyone like I needed you.… It seemed so right last night. Rachel, you are very important to me and always will be, because…"

"I'm an adult woman, Tom," Rachel cut him off. "I'm not demanding anything from you; one night does not force us to have emotional ties. As you said, the physical attraction between us has always been strong, maybe now we can move on."

"Are you trying to tell me it was nothing but sex to you?"

She ignored his question by asking another. "Are you willing to take up a relationship with me? Would you divorce your wife for me? Just answer with a 'Yes' or 'No'."

Surprised by her direct question, he turned away from her. He loves her so much. But she deserves more than one night; she deserves a man who loves her unreservedly. A man who can wake up with her in his arms, who need not disguise his feelings in front of others, who can say I love you out loud. However painful it may be for him to admit it, the hard reality is that he can't be this man.

"Rachel…"

His reluctance to respond gave her the answer she needed. "It's okay; you gave me your answer. What we had was sex, really good sex, but sexual satisfaction does not make a relationship."

 _Why do I feel like I used her? Why do I feel like the worst bastard in the world? Because you are,_ the voice of his conscience shouted at him.

"I need to work, we'll talk later."

"Wait!" He says, holding her hand as she passed him. "What are we now?"

Rachel replied, lying through her teeth. "Yesterday we passed a line we should not have crossed, but what we really are, what we always were, this has not changed, at least it's what I expect."

"I will always be your friend, but…"

 _"No ifs, no buts," she said firmly, putting her finger_ to his _lips to silence him_ _._ "We can't go back in time and erase what happened. Yeah, things may get weird for a while, but we can handle it."

Reluctantly, he released her hand and let her go, watching as she walked up the stairs with slow, and steady steps.

Away from him, in the privacy of her room, she allowed the mask of a strong woman to fall. Hot tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She took several deep breaths and went to the bathroom and washed her face with cold water, stared at her reflection in the mirror, and did not like what she saw.

"God damn! We just slept together; it was just sex, sex, nothing more!" she repeated the words like a mantra, trying to convince herself that it only was that. "Sex…."

 _What did you think would happen? That you would not be affected by sleeping with him. That you cannot turn off the button of your feelings. You're in love with him, you fool._

Unable to concentrate on her work, she went downstairs and found the three men making some repairs to the house. She sat on one of the deck chairs to watch them work.

SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH

It's hard to focus on work when his mind is chaotic, and her presence makes him even more distracted. He had talked to his wife over the radio, and she confirmed the pregnancy. The hope he harbored in the chest that the information was a mistake fell apart like a sand castle carried by the waves.

Distracted by his thoughts, his grip on the hammer slipped and he hit his own finger.

"Shit!" Tom cursed loudly and sucked his bruised finger.

She approached and held his injured hand, examining the finger. "It does not look broken, but it is good to put ice on it to reduce the swelling."

"Don't worry, sir, we're done here," Jackson said.

While he sat at the chair in the kitchen, she wrapped some ice in a towel. Then she sat beside him, took his hand in hers and put the towel gently against the injured finger. He winced at first, but then began to relax.

"What happened?" she asked, still holding his hand.

"Nothing. I distracted myself," he said.

He knows that the longer he stayed, the harder it will be to say goodbye. He'd never considered himself to be a coward, but now the only thing he can think of is running away.

"Rachel, I need to go back."

She froze for a second and then asked, "When are you leaving?"

"In an hour," he replied.

"So soon," she said, unable to hide her disappointment

"Duty calls. You know how it is."

"I understand. How's the finger?" she asked, removing the towel

"Still a bit sore but I'm sure I'll survive."

"I'm sure of that; you're a very strong man, Tom."

Both knew she was not talking about the injured finger. He feels a sense of loss when he realized that she is beginning to say goodbye.

His gaze went tender, "Thanks, Rachel. You saw who I really am and still believe in me."

"To show vulnerability takes courage, especially when you think you're going to disappoint someone, and yet you opened up to me."

"You did the same," he returned.

"With you I can let my fears come to the surface, because I trust you".

"You're not making this very easy."

"Easy?" she asked, frowning

 _I don't want to go._ This thought has come across his mind many times in the days he was with her.

"Saying goodbye. I need to pack my things," he said while standing up. "We'll talk before I leave, okay?"

"Sure."

SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH

He found her in the same place they had talked the day before, her eyes at one point in the distance, her arms crossed, and her hair hanging loose in the wind. He approached standing beside her. "Rachel, I need to go."

She responds in a low voice, her eyes still fixed on a point in the distance, "I know."

"Rachel, look at me," he said as turned her gently toward him. She cringed under his touch, but he kept his hands on her shoulders. "I feel like... Be honest with me, how bad have I screwed things up between us?"

She smiled at him and said, "It's okay. You didn't screw anything up; our friendship remains as solid as titanium."

"Are you sure?" _I love you. It's too late for us to just be friends. Ask me to stay. Give me a sign, Rachel._

 _Ah, Tom, when it comes to you, I'm not sure of anything. The truth is, I'm not ready to let you go._

"Yes, I'm sure. Have a safe trip back home and tell the others that I miss them."

He leaned down and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, "Don't disappear on me again, okay?"

"I'll see you in a few weeks, I promise," she assured him.

"God! I'm already missing you," he said. Then he pulled her into his arms, with a sigh she relaxed against him and hugged him back. He rested his chin on the top of her head. She heard him sigh heavily, and then felt the warmth of his breath against her ear, when he whispered, "I left a gift for you."

She leant back to look up at him, and asked surprised, "Gift?"

"Something to remember me by," then he kissed her forehead and then released her and strode away.

It took all of his self-control not to go back and hold her in his arms. Divided between the urge to stay and the need to leave, he drew in a deep breath, and forced his feet to move on.

Saying goodbye to him was the second most difficult thing she had to do. To pretend that she did not love him was the first. She watched him walk away, knowing this is goodbye. The feelings she held deep within her are difficult to ignore and will be difficult to hide. She needs to stay away from him, it's the only solution.

When she arrived at her room, she found on her pillow a note from him, along with two items, one completely unexpected. She took the note and starts reading.

 _Rachel,_

 _These days with you, I felt like I was in a cocoon of happiness, almost as if the pains of the outside world could not reach me. But now my reality calls, I need to go back, but thank you for reminding me that miracles still exist, having you back is a wonderful gift. Because you are and always will be a part of my life. I thought I'd give you a farewell present, but unfortunately my options are limited._ _My initial idea, as you can see is a little damaged._

She picked up the small yellow flower, and turned the fragile object between her fingers. The crumpled flower had seen better days, but it was still a flower. The petals were soft against her face, and her nose still scent the sweet odor it exuded.

… _._ _How about something different? That's all I have to offer, I know it's not enough, but that's all I have now. It's probably the strangest gift you've ever received. See you in a few weeks._

 _Tom_

 _PS: Rachel, remember to keep both your eyes open._

Then with a smile on her lips, she took the gun, strange that such a deadly object could bring sweet memories. He teaching her to shoot, his closeness, his flirting with her and his jokes were the memories that came to her mind.

She spent a few hours just staring at the two presents sitting side by side on her desk. She read the note several times. When night fell, she laid down on the bed, and she realized, not for the first time that her pillow smelled like him. She hugged her pillow tighter. She slept, keeping the pillow in her arms to comfort herself.

Some hours later, an etheric figure approached the sleeping woman and whispered in her ear _, "No matter how long a voyage is, a sailor always returns to the harbor. Do not worry; he will come back to you. Meanwhile a part of him, his true gift, grows in your womb."_

"Tom," Rachel whispers in her sleep, her hand moving to rest on her womb.

The woman in a flowing white dress walks away, and approaches the window; her eyes observe the sea that was lit by the full moon. Her lips and her emerald green eyes are smiling. Her musical voice whispers. " _The wait was finally over._ _I'm coming back to you, my love."_ Then she disappears

* * *

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	9. Secrets

**Chapter 9: Secrets**

* * *

 **Six Weeks Later…...**

She was in the kitchen having breakfast with Rodriguez and Jackson when she felt the bile rise in her throat. She put her hand to cover her mouth and ran to the kitchen door, barely enough time to get outside, and promptly threw up everything she had eaten.

Beside her, the two soldiers who followed her mad rush outside exchanged worried glances. In a few hours, they would have to leave the house, and news that she was alive would be on every news channel in the world. Rachel was not as helpless as before, now knew how to kill someone and it had nothing to do with the training that she had in medical school. But her newly acquired ability probably did not erase the fear she must have. From the day before, she had shown a certain anxiety and now she was as pale as a ghost.

"Maybe we should delay the trip, you do not look well." Rodriguez said, worried.

"No, I'll be fine, I just need to..." She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence before she began throwing up again.

After what seemed an eternity, exhausted, she sits on the floor, her back resting on the railing. She closes her eyes for a minute and when she opens them, a glass of water appears in her field of vision.

"Thank you," she said, holding the glass with both hands. Trying to get rid of the bitter taste, she washes her mouth and then drinks two sips of water. She feels as if her stomach had been turned inside out.

"Maybe it will be good for you to lie down," Jackson says, offering a hand to help her get up.

She accepted Jackson's extended hand and got to her feet. She felt that her legs were unsteady and she could feel the world spinning. Her hands automatically looked for support before the darkness claimed her.

She woke up lying on the sofa in the living room, finding two very worried soldiers at her side.

"Did I faint?" she asked, surprised.

"Oh yeah! You scared the hell out of us when we couldn't wake you up." Jackson replied.

"I'm fine now," she said, slowly pushing herself into a sitting position.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Rodriguez asked.

"Yes," she responded. The two soldiers did not seem very convinced. Then she added, "Maybe I'll just lie down for a while in my room."

"Jackson help her to her room, I need to tell Admiral that our trip is canceled, at least for today."

"Is that really necessary? I'm fine, Rodriguez. I just need a few hours and I'll be good as new."

"He'll come down on me like a ton of bricks if I hide this information from him. He needs to know. Besides, you're not well enough to travel and we need to explain why."

She sighed and accepted the inevitable. The soldiers Tom commanded had a deep respect for him, a good dose of fear. Rachel knew there was nothing she could say that would change Rodriguez's mind.

A few minutes later, she laid down on her bed in a fetal position and closed her eyes. Jackson continued to hover like a shadow. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel his worry for her.

"I'm fine," she repeated for the tenth time.

"Maybe you should drink something. Would you like a cup of water, juice or tea?" he asked.

She swallowed hard as at the mention of tea made her stomach twist again. What's happening to me? she asked herself. She wished Tom were here. Tom…Then an idea flashed through her head, and she felt as if she'd been struck by lightning. She and Tom had unprotected sex and the symptoms seemed… "Oh, God!" she muttered under her breath, and buried her head under the pillow

"Ma'am?" Jackson's voice was deeply concerned.

"I just need to be alone for a while, okay," she says, her voice muffled.

"Call me if you need any help," he offered.

"Thank you, Jackson," said Rachel.

"Anytime, Doc, " he replied. Then he left, closing the door softly behind him.

She sat on the middle of her bed with her legs crossed and took off her blouse. She let her hand rest on her belly but felt nothing unusual. But she felt that she has gained weight because her jeans do not feel as comfortable as before.

She got up from the bed, still stunned by the simple possibility of ... No, she can't be pregnant.

"Some women have early pregnancy symptoms even if they're 6 weeks along. You're a scientist. You deal in facts. Think about it. What are the symptoms of pregnancy?"

Her menstrual cycle was late, it was not unusual, she had never had them on a regular basis. She was feeling tired and irritable lately as well but it could have been because she had not been able to sleep well in the past few weeks. Extra trips to the bathroom, can be anxiety, some of her enemies were out there. Before her period her breasts have become sensitive and swollen, it is perfectly normal.

"Can you explain why you suddenly developed an aversion to the tea you love?"

"I may have caught a cold."

"You and Tom had unprotected sex. All signs point to the fact that you are pregnant."

She remembered the grimace he made when they shared a cup of tea. And then a big smile spread across her face. "Your daddy hates my tea," she said, caressing her tummy lovingly.

She needs access to a lab as fast as possible but her heart tells her that she is pregnant.

SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH

"Are you sure she's okay? This is the second fainting in less than two weeks."

The doctor gave him a reassuring smile. "The tests we've done say she's fine. This may have happened due to a drop in pressure, a strong emotion, or the fact that she had stayed for more than three hours without feeding herself."

"Is there anything I can do?" Tom asked.

"Stay close her, get her to eat at regular intervals and she also needs rest."

"Does she need to stay in the hospital?"

"No, take her home; she will rest better in her own bed. Being surrounded by care and affection is the most important now."

After the doctor left, he sat on a chair, and ran his hands over his face, a mixture of frustration and desolation. After weeks wallowing in guilt, he had decided to confess his betrayal. She had been furious, they argued, and she fainted a few minutes later. That was one of the reasons why he was in a hospital ward feeling miserable. The other reason was that no matter how much he tried, he could not get Rachel out of his head. His life could not be more complicated, married to a woman, but in love with another.

He and Rachel had unprotected sex. He couldn't help wondering if that night of love had brought consequences. The idea of a child growing in her womb filled him with joy. Rationally he knows it's crazy to think like that, but nothing would make him happier. But as the weeks passed, that hope was slowly dying. If she had been pregnant, she would have told him.

After bringing his wife home, he returned to the command center to speak to Mike.

"I knew what happened, everything okay?" Mike asked.

"Yes, she and the baby are well."

"And you?"

"I have to be," Tom replied with a resigned sigh.

Mike knew that Tom was looking forward to this trip; it would be a chance to see Rachel again after not seeing her for more than a month. They'd talked on the radio twice, but it sure was not enough. A press conference was scheduled and the two of them would appear together. "And your trip tomorrow? "

"I have to change my plans. Due to what happened, I need to stay longer at home. I need you to take some more responsibility here."

"No problem, Tom. I can do this" he observed Tom's bent shoulders as if carrying the weight of the world, "Are you okay?"

"She accused me of having an affair with Rachel. I told her…"

"What did you tell?"

"Everything…"

"Everything?" Mike asked.

"I confessed that I slept with Rachel. I was tired of pretending," Tom sighed deeply.

 _Ah, my friend. You keep pretending a love that you do not feel, pretending to be a husband you do not want to be, pretending you're happy with her pregnancy. Smiling on the outside but screaming inside,_ Mike thought to himself.

"Are you okay?" He repeated the unanswered question.

"I'm exhausted; it seems the problems never end."

"I'm here if you need me."

"I know, thanks Mike. I really appreciate all your help. I'm worried about Rachel…"

"Rachel? Why?"

"She had an anxiety crisis and fainted. I wanted to help her, but…"

"You cannot be in two places at once, Tom."

"I know, but it does not make me feel better. I cannot be there for her, but at least I can make sure she stays safe. The travels she has to do requires a stronger security system."

"I agree. What do you have in mind?"

"Jackson and Rodriguez are excellent soldiers, but I thought I'd send four more. Wolf, Burk, Miller and Cruz."

"Excellent choices. They work very well together; she will be safe with them, with a bonus that Wolf is a sniper."

They talked a few more hours about the duties Mike needed to take on and the details of Rachel's safety. Then he went home.

SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH

A week later, things were under control and he was finally going to see Rachel again. Then the immunes attacked one of the laboratories that produced vaccines killing three soldiers and wounding four others. And then, a fanatic attacked his wife, she had not been injured, but due to her condition, she ended up going to the hospital.

When he thought things had calmed down, the insinuations began. Some people interviewed in St. Louis had said that the Captain and Dr. Scott seemed more than friends. Insinuations about his relationship with Rachel began to gain strength. That during the trip in the Arctic they had maintained a romance. That perhaps that was why he had agreed to extend the mission without asking questions, since he shared the bed with the scientist aboard his ship. As much as the insinuations were absurd, or perhaps exactly because of it, a lot of people started to listen to this bullshit. Of course, the idiots made a point of ignoring a key fact that as a military man he obeyed a chain of command.

From a brilliant scientist who saved millions of lives, Rachel had been reduced to only the mistress of the Captain.

An official communiqué was issued to the press, denying the malicious insinuations, and stating that those responsible for those statements would be punished according to law.

Rachel was responding very well to these rumors, focusing only on her work and being very careful about dealing with the press.

"What is the nature of your relationship with Admiral Chandler?"

She recognized the man, Ed Griffin, the same journalist who bothered her for weeks. He was about 35 years old, dark hair and dark eyes, about 5 feet 6 in height. Treacherous like a snake.

His questions always revolved around her relationship with Tom. And he always insinuated that she shared a bed with Tom during their time in the Arctic.

"If you do not have any more questions related to my work, this interview is over," she said as she got up to leave.

As she approached the exit, she heard him ask, "Tell me Doctor, the ship's beds are small, did you have privilege to enjoy a bigger bed like that of the Captain's….."

The tension that suddenly settled in the room was so think that a knife can slice through it. The other journalists saw the tension in her movements and Ed rejoiced in knowing that he has gotten an opening in Dr. Scott's armor. She is now furious with him and he knew that angry people do not usually think before they talk.

For weeks, she has ignored his insinuations, but today she was at the end of her rope.

She stopped, turned, and walked towards him. "Doctor, Rachel, it's not worth it, he's just an idiot," Jackson tried to calm her down without success.

The soldiers had already seen that look of determination on her face before. It's impossible to stop a tsunami, but they could try to reduce the damages it will cause.

"Not today," she growled. And with a fluid movement, she grabbed the gun in her bag, unlocked it and pointed it directly at his face. She was tired of that idiot's insinuations. Frightened people turned away from Mr. Griffin, but not her.

"Come on, we both know you would not do that, Doctor," he said with an arrogant smile.

"Really? You do remember that I am a doctor. I know that the critical targets in the human body are the head, trunk and abdomen. But even if a shot is made at the leg or arm it can be fatal if it ruptures arteries and veins. It would cause hemorrhage. But I can shoot in your foot," she said, levelling the gun down and pointing to his foot.

Ed felt the cold sweat running on his back and temples because he saw in her eyes a coldness that scared the hell out of him.

The escort soldiers looked at each other with apprehension. She held the gun as if she intended to use it.

"We need to go, Dr. Scott, I think he got the message," Rodriguez told her softly.

"I don't think he has…," she responded with her eyes fixed on the target and gun still pointed at him.

"Dr. Scott…"

"But…" she said and she took another step forward as he retreated scared, stumbling on his own feet and falling to the floor.

"Idiots do not need help to fall," she locked her gun and stowed it back in her bag. She walked the few yards that separated her from the door with the haughtiness of a queen.

"Marry me!" someone from the crowd shouted and the people around laughed, suddenly finding the situation funny.

After getting into the car the soldiers burst into laughter. "God, Doctor, remind me never to make you angry," Wolf said to her with a smile.

"What happened?" asked Cruz, who had been designated as the driver today. Burk explained what had happened and Cruz also found the situation amusing, Miller looked at her with a poorly disguised adoration.

"Man, you should have seen her! She scared him half to death!" Miller said

"Hell! I lost control and did exactly what he wanted," she said worriedly now that she had time to reflect back on what just happened.

"I think you've endured a lot of bullshit these past weeks from him and he deserved it and more," Jackson said.

"If it's any consolation, I would have shot him," Burk said.

"No, you would not, but thank you for trying to comfort me," she told him.

The incident only reinforced her decision not to tell Tom about her pregnancy. If the press knew about it, it would be a nightmare. Her baby, the result of a night of lovemaking, an innocent child, would be seen only as the result of an adultery. The secret is the best protection she can give her baby.

When they arrived at their hotel, she was surprised to be applauded by the hotel staff and some guests who were in the lobby.

The hotel manager approached her. "Dr. Scott, I speak for everyone here, we do not agree with this defamation campaign that these journalists are doing against you and the Admiral."

"Thank you, Mr., Jones," she graciously accepted his words.

SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH

The incident ended up in all the media within minutes. Many people agreed that the asshole had deserved and others saying that she had no right to point a gun to a civilian. Tom thought that was why the President wanted to see him, to talk about it.

"Please, sit down Admiral; we need to have a conversation."

He settled himself on the chair in front of the President feeling that this would be a difficult conversation.

"You're the strategist, Admiral. Why, after months, the press began speculating about your relationship with Dr. Scott?"

 _Without false modesty, he knows that he is an important ally to the current government, precisely because of his reputation. But if a man cannot maintain his principles when tempted, he cannot be trusted. Sometimes when you make a promise, all you have is your reputation to support your words._

"Your opponents are trying to weaken your position. One way to do this is to destroy the credibility of the people who are around you."

"So you agree with me, that this defamation campaign seems to have been planned."

"It's what it seems, sir."

"So we have a problem," Michener said.

"They cannot prove anything, because nothing happened between me and Rachel during our Arctic mission."

"They can start digging deeper and we both know what they can find."

 _Impossible! Michener cannot know what happened on the island._

"You tortured and killed a man because of her. Because of Rachel Scott, you have stretched your own limits to the breaking point."

"Rachel is not responsible for my decisions. I am the one responsible for my own mistakes."

"I am not judging you, Tom."

"Why do I feel that there is a 'but' somewhere, sir?"

"It does not matter what I think. It matters what the public believes. They need to keep believing that their hero, you, have no flaws."

 _Tom wanted to shout. I couldn't care any less about how others perceive me. I've made such mistakes in my life and sometimes I feel suffocated by them._ _I'm tired of pretending to be the leader everyone expects me to be._

"Well, Mr. President, this is a big lie, because you know exactly what I'm capable of doing."

"Yes, I know, but what I need now is your ability to inspire our people. I need you by my side. You are my most important ally."

"What do you want from me? What do you need me to do?" he to asked although he already knew the answer.

"That you keep away from Dr. Rachel Scott. A chain is no stronger than its weakest link."

"Me?"

"Yes. As you said, there are people out there who challenge the legitimacy of my government. They will use any weapon to weaken my position. We have to prevent this from happening. The stability of government depends on this."

"Keeping us separate would not reinforce the rumors and… "

"I'm not worried about what they think, but about what they can see. Where do you think the rumors came from? I've watched your body language when you're with her. It is the body language of a man deeply in love, you can't disguise your feelings for her."

There wasn't much he could say to that. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. He had never had such a long and difficult mission in his life.

"I understand your concerns, sir. I'll do what you ask."

"Do not worry, lawyers will find a legal way to avoid problems for her." The fact that she had pointed a gun at someone, even someone as despicable as Ed Griffin could bring unpleasant consequences.

"Thank you, sir. Do you have any other business you need to discuss with me?"

"Not at the moment. You're a good man, Tom. I would never have come to this position without your help, but unfortunately to maintain it I need you to keep doing what's right."

 _The right thing now is to take you away from the woman you love,_ Michener wondered how much a man can give until there's nothing left. _Forgive me, Tom. I can't do it by myself. I need you to support me on this._

 _Duty is a bitch,_ Tom thought bitterly. If he knew Rachel was alive, he would never have remarried. A person may be a prisoner of his choices, and in the last few weeks, he has been discovering the truth behind those words.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for all your reviews, follows and favorites! Scotch's reunion is about a few chapters away from happening.**

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	10. The Ties That Bind Us

**Chapter 10 - The Ties That Bind Us**

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" _The vaccine shipment must be inspected within 2 hours of arrival….This is it…_ _You know what to do…"_

"I'm sorry; I did not know the room was occupied."

" _I need to hang up, we'll talk later. No, no problem, just go with the plan."_

"Dr. Rachel Scott." The woman said and smiled, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes. The woman in question is pregnant, has black hair and light blue eyes.

Rachel did not think it was strange that the woman knew her, after all, her picture was on the ration cards and that video of her healing the child was well known. In addition, the press had reported her return from the dead in big headlines.

Instinctively, Rachel squeezed the bag where the weapon was. Somehow the woman seemed strangely familiar to her, although she could not figure out why. "Yes, and you are…"

"We've never met before but I know you by _reputation_. So you're the great Dr. Scott everyone's talking about? You do not look like a big deal. Oh! I'm sorry…..."

Her tone of voice and her words say exactly the opposite; her eyes were filled with an icy contempt. "No, you're not," Rachel replied

"You're right, I'm not. I'm Sasha Chandler. You know my husband."

Of course, Tom's wife, she had seen a picture of them together. She looks different without the uniform. Or maybe it was her subconscious wanting to erase the image from her mind. The belligerent attitude now made sense. According to the press, Rachel was the woman who had had an affair with her husband.

"I know Tom, he's a friend."

 _You damned bitch. He's my husband. You can't take him away from me! He'll never be yours! Never!_ _I'll make sure of that._

"Friend? Do you think I'm an idiot? He told me what happened, he asked me to forgive him, he was deeply sorry."

"That doesn't surprise me, that he told you the truth, I mean. That's who he is," Rachel responded calmly.

"Only a woman without morals or one desperate for attention would drag another woman's husband to bed."

"I'm not a woman desperate for sex, who dragged your man to bed like you said. We had sex because that's what we both wanted."

Sasha was furious at her response, but tried to hide her reaction. She hoped to make the woman feel guilty, nervous, or uncomfortable when confronted by her. The pregnant wife. But there was none of these feelings in Rachel's eyes, only challenge shone in her brown eyes.

"You were just an adventure, a mistake. I am the woman who is going to give him a child. We are going to have a boy. My son will replace the children he lost," she said while stroking her rounded belly.

"Ashley and Sam can never be replaced in Tom's heart. But I have no doubt that he will be a wonderful father. I'm happy for him. He deserves to have a baby in his arms again."

"You love my husband, don't you?"

"The short answer is yes." Sasha's surprise showed on her face. "What? Did you expect me to lie? Don't ask questions you don't really want the answer to, Sasha."

The next words were forced out between clenched teeth. "If you are harboring any hope for Tom, forget it. He's mine, he is off limits, Rachel Scott."

"I never said otherwise," Rachel replied.

"You act like you do not care, but the truth is that you're jealous of me, because I'm his wife, I'm going to have his son and you're nothing," Sasha declared. She took a few steps forward trying to intimidate Rachel in her personal space.

Rachel felt her temper rising to the fore. .What I have of him are not just memories of a night of passion. I have something more permanent from him; his seed grows in my womb. "I have more of it than you can imagine."

"What are you talking about? Are you ..." Sasha asks, looking at Rachel's belly.

Rachel resisted the strong impulse to lay protective hands over her belly as she could see the murderous glint in Sasha's eyes. _You slept with her husband and now you are insinuating that you are pregnant with his baby. What did you expect?_

"From our work together, what else would it be? Did you think I was talking about a baby? I would never get pregnant to trap a man. It's the oldest trick in the book. I'm not that kind of a woman," Rachel scoffed at Sasha.

"I did not do it, I'm married to him, sex is part of the package. Maybe you should get married, to know what it's like to sleep and wake up next to your man every day."

"Thanks for the advice, but I have other priorities and marriage is definitely not one of them." _My priority will be to take care of the baby that grows in my womb. Tom's child._ "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"He only needed sex, any woman would do but you were the only one available. Sadly, he just wanted to feel better at your expense. As soon as he knew I was back, he came running back to me and abandoned you."

A small hint of pain appeared in her brown eyes, it had been fleeting, but for Sasha it was a victory. It showed a weakness in the strong woman's armor that Rachel Scott had presented so far. She smiles with satisfaction, rejoicing in the discomfort of the other.

Rachel is aware that she showed too much and then she decided to hit where she knows it will hurt more. "We were together for months, in a confined space, but he did not cheat on Darien. He was already attracted to me at that time."

The unspoken words hovered in the air. _He did not cheat on Darien, but he cheated on you._

Sasha opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't get any word out because of the fury she feels. _Who does this whore think she is? I'll kill you, Rachel Scott, slowly and very, very painfully._

Rachel walked away towards the women's bathroom. Leaving behind a furious woman. She sighed in relief at the realization that the bathroom was empty. She opened the tap and threw cold water on her face. _What on earth have you just done? Have you gone crazy? You almost told her the truth._ Her emotions were so unpredictable and fierce, maybe it was because of her hormones.

She tried to distract herself, but just like a bad song, the discussion kept on repeating itself in her head. She regretted some of the things she had said. Confessing her love for Tom was at the top of the list.

How could she have been so incredibly stupid? Sasha Chandler is only acting as was to be expected, as a cheated wife, marking her own territory.

Nothing hurts like the truth.

The possibility of seeing him again, after everything that has happened, seeing another woman occupy a position in his life she would never have, it was very difficult. Although she had prepared for the possibility of meeting Tom's wife, it was nothing to what she had imagined the meeting to be. There will be no future for them, there never was, except in her wildest daydreams.

Just thinking about the two of them together makes her want to scream, or cry or hit something. That hurt like hell. She forced herself to take several deep breaths to calm herself. She cannot and will not break. At least, not here.

Brick by brick, she tried to rebuild her emotional wall, but her chaotic emotions were difficult to control, causing fissures in her fortress. The mission, her relationship with Tom and the crew of Nathan James. The frustration with each defeat, the joy and the hope with each victory, the sadness each time one of them left in the dangerous journey they had shared. What was. What could have been. The reality she cannot deny. For her the journey is over but a new one is just starting without them.

She put her hands on her belly. Tenderness, coupled with strength, filled her heart.

With determination, she made repairs on her wall, hoping it was enough to withstand the most difficult encounter she would face. She looked at the woman in the mirror, and she slid the mask back in place. The pain etched into her features being replaced by the strong, determined woman they were all accustomed to seeing.

"Rachel?"

She turned around to hear Kara's worried voice.

"Is there something wrong?" Kara asked coming to stand beside her in front of the large bathroom mirror.

"Do you want to know if for today or in the last few months?"

An expression of understanding passed through Kara's face. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Don't worry, there are certain things I have to work out for myself, but thank you," she turned toward the exit but she suddenly felt dizzy. _Oh God! Not now!_

"Rachel? Are you okay? You're as pale as a ghost. When's the last time you ate something?" Kara asked Rachel in a worried voice.

The fact that she skipped meals was well known among the Nathan James' crew. She could use that now in her favor with Kara none the wiser. "I guess at lunch, or breakfast, I don't remember," she prevaricated with a self-deprecating smile.

"Rachel, you're a hopeless case. How about a sandwich?" Kara offered.

"I'm starving, I would probably eat two."

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Rachel was on her second sandwich while looking at the pictures of Kara's baby while listening to the latest gossip about some crew members. As Rachel did not notice him arriving, Tom had a moment to collect himself as he arrived. _I love you not for who you are but for who I am when I'm with you._ The phrase came to his head, he doesn't remember who the author was but it did not matter. She could see the best in him and while they were together, he had been happy. Tom thought about running away... but to where? He cannot run away from himself.

Mike, as a good friend, realized his nervousness and drew attention to himself. "Rachel, I was very happy to hear that the news of your death was a farce. It's very good to see you."

"Thank you, Mike, it's good to see you, too. I'm glad to hear that you found your family," she greeted Mike, very aware of Tom's presence beside him.

"Thanks."

"Rachel…"

In a fraction of a second, when their eyes met, Rachel felt that feeling of butterflies in the stomach while he felt his heart beat so fast that he was afraid of others hearing it. Just friends, she tried to remember when she felt a crack in her newly constructed wall.

"Tom…"

He looked tired. His blue eyes were sad, and there were dark circles under them. She wished she could comfort him, but they are sailing in unknown waters now.

Looking at her, he could only think of those days on the island, the moments they spent together, the conversations, the stories they shared, the smiles exchanged, her words of encouragement and acquittal, the flirtation during the shooting lessons. The feel of their naked bodies pressed against each other. Passion. Desire. Need. His one-night stand that had been so much more.

His mind insisted on remembering that night, tormenting him with visions of a future he would never have.

 _He watches her face relaxed, bathed by the first rays coming in through the window, her hair scattered on the pillow, eyes closed, and a satisfied smile curving her lips, one hand resting protectively on her rounded belly. He puts his hand under her hand and feels the baby kicking. Then her eyelashes flutter and she opens her eyes and…_

He had been lost in his own thoughts. Lost to such an extent that his mind did not record that she was talking to him.

The third time she called his name; he blinked in confusion and looked at her. Then he shakes his head, trying to erase the memories in his head. "W-What?"

"Tom, are you okay?" she asked, touching his arm and the warmth of her hand on his skin brought him completely back to reality.

He cursed himself internally as he noticed three pairs of eyes watching him with varying degrees of concern. _Shit!_ He really needs a good night's sleep.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Mike asked

"It's just…" he smiled at them, but it's a sad smile. "I think I fell asleep with my eyes open. I haven't slept very well lately."

"Are you awake now?" Rachel asked with a frown of concern.

"Yes. I believe so. What were you saying?"

"Well, I was saying that congratulations are in order. Your baby, he is very lucky to have a father like you."

"Lucky?" Tom paused. "Clearly, you have more faith in me than I have in myself."

"I have no doubt that your child will be much loved."

Her words touched something inside him. A necessity so poignant that it hurt. How he wished this child were theirs. The pain that Tom felt almost sent him to his knees. It is the pain that comes with losing something they never really had.

"So how long do you intend to stay here?" Tom asked.

"My work here is done. It's time to go back home."

"Where exactly is your home?" Kara asked.

"I have an apartment in London, but I do not intend to go back there now. I have not yet decided. Somewhere where there are no journalists."

"Good luck with that," Mike said. "But you can always shoot them."

"Oh, for Christ's sake don't encourage her, Mike!"

"As if she needed it. I can make a list of several things she did during the mission that requires nerves of steel. Brave is her middle name."

Despite herself , Rachel smiled. Much had changed between her and the Nathan James' crew.

"No, it's Isabelle," he saw the surprise on the faces of Mike and Kara and decided to explain further. "Her middle name. It's in the report I received before the mission. "So if we need you, how do we find you?"

"You don't need me anymore, Tom. Any scientist can reproduce my work or give a lecture."

"I disagree, Rachel. Nobody explains a subject like you," Kara said with an amused glitter in her eyes. "I remember that Miller almost had a heart attack when you demonstrated how to spread the vaccine. It was funny."

"He is a lovely boy, I mean man," Rachel corrected herself. "There is still a part of him that is very sweet; I hope the war does not change that."

 _War usually breaks everything and everyone in its path. Miller will change, it is inevitable,_ Tom thought bitterly.

Mike smiled. "The kid practically forgot to breathe. For a moment, I thought it would be necessary to call Dr. Rios to help him."

They are friends. That's all. He is lying to himself. His feelings for her are so deeply embedded within him that he does not think it's possible to pluck out.

He's already tried and failed.

"I think the President is ready to talk to me," Rachel said when she saw two men coming out of his office.

"Can we talk later?"

"Sure, Tom."

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"So, you are leaving without saying goodbye?" A familiar voice asked.

She sighed, realizing that her escape did not go unnoticed as she hoped. She was aware that she was getting away from the conversation with Tom because she did not know if she could look into those blue eyes and continue to lie to him.

After giving Rachel a look of amused understanding, Mike ordered the escort soldiers to wait for her in the car. They saluted and obeyed without hesitation.

"I'm not good at goodbyes, Mike."

"I suspect your inability has to do with Tom. Rachel, you two need to talk."

 _He knows. Of course Tom would tell him. Mike is his best friend._

"No, Tom and I have nothing to discuss. He has a second chance to be happy, it's better that way."

"Better? Better for whom?" Mike asked.

"For all those involved in this mess. We both had an interesting conversation; Sasha and I. I think I made her feel threatened. I do not want to cause problems for him."

"I've never seen two people so different and so similar at the same time. I'm sure of one thing: the tendency of the two to sacrifice yourself is annoying."

"Thank you, coming from you, is a compliment."

"I didn't say that as a compliment," he growled.

"I know. You do not need a scientist anymore. Soldiers are more important now, like her. Soldiers with combat training. She has that look, I don't know, " _don't cross my path_." Or maybe it was just the fact that she provoked me and I retaliated."

Mike raised his eyebrows at Rachel, as if to say, 'Did you two have a fight?' How he would have liked to see that _conversation_. Tom's women were strong, each in their own way. Rachel may not have the same abilities as Sasha - he has no doubt Tom's wife tried to intimidate Rachel, because Tom had already confessed his betrayal to his wife - but that does not mean that Rachel cannot be a worthy opponent in her own right.

"Yeah, she is a very efficient soldier; but it does not make her stronger than you."

 _Why did he choose her?_

Jealousy. It was absurd, but she couldn't help it.

"What did she do before joining you?" she asked, needing to know more about the woman Tom loves.

"She was a CIA agent. She was in China when the pandemic began."

"She spoke Mandarin very well."

"How do you know that?"

"Unintentionally, I overheard her talking to someone on the phone. Something about a shipment of vaccines."

Mike frowned. He seemed in deep thought for a few seconds and then he murmured something under his breath. "It makes no sense."

"What does not make sense?" Rachel asked him.

He shook his head and said, "It's nothing. Don't worry about it. So…Do you speak Mandarin? You're full of surprises, Rachel."

"My parents were missionaries, I traveled a lot with them and I ended up learning other languages. This helps me when I have to do some research in other countries."

"In addition to a brilliant scientist, who likes to participate in risky rescue missions, first you operated on Cruz in the middle of a gunfight, and then helped rescue Tom on a ship full of enemies, you are also a polyglot."

"I was a bait, Mike."

"Without combat training, it took courage. The soldiers who entered there were armed and trained. You made sure that Tom got the weapon, interesting method, by the way. I do not remember we discussed that strategy."

"Did he tell you?" she asked, blushing furiously.

"No, it was Tex. He told me he almost had a heart attack while watching you kiss Tom like that, with such passion. He was disappointed that you had not chosen him."

"I'll miss him... it's so hard to let some people go, to realize suddenly that a part of yourself is lost. You think of all the things you would like to say, but you know that too late, that no matter how much you want, the outcome will not change."

He's pretty sure she's not just talking about Tex, who she had loved as a friend, who had not? It was easy to like Tex, humorous, sincere, a good soldier, and above all a very good man.

"Those we love will always be a part of us, no matter how physically distant they are. And something tells me that the story of you two is not over yet."

"You are a good friend, Mike. Please keep him out of trouble."

"Of course, but you know he doesn't make things easy."

"Probably not, but that's never stopped you before."

"You could stay you know!" he said. "You are one of us."

Maybe if she stayed around, his idiot friend would realize the bullshit he'd done. Tom's second marriage had been a mistake since the beginning.

A tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly. "I can't stay. Especially now."

"I see. Is there anything that could make you change your mind?"

With a sad smile curving her mouth, she replied, "No. Now I really have to go."

"Okay. If you need help, call me. I'll be in Norfolk."

"Thank you, Mike, I'll remember that."

"Do you want me to tell him something?"

"Tell him that I..." _I love him. That I'm happy to have a part of him with me. That I will try to be a good mother to our son. That those days together were the best of my life. That I pray that he will forgive me for hiding the truth._ "Do not say anything."

"Be careful out there, Rachel."

"I will. Goodbye, Mike," she said and walked away without looking back.

After Rachel left, Mike had a confused expression on his face. He was trying to assemble the pieces of a puzzle, but the pieces did not fit.

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"Thank you, Mathias, Aaron, I will never forget what you did for me. You two did more than your duty demanded."

"It was an honor, Rachel." Rodriguez and Jackson responded together.

"Where are you going?" Rodriguez asked.

"Home, Mathias, I'm going back home," she replied.

Sitting on small plane waiting for takeoff, she thinks about the little life that was growing within her. When she confirmed herself that she was carrying Tom's child, she felt a mixture of fear intertwined with denial and shock and then a joy so great that it left her breathless. She knew that from that moment on that she would always be connected to him. Unfortunately, he would never know, her baby would grow up without the presence of its father.

"Are you okay, Doctor?"

"Yes, we are well, thanks, "She answered, receiving a strange look from the pilot. That's when she realized that she had said 'we' instead of "I." She would have to be careful to keep her condition a secret until it was safe.

When the plane is already in the air and she saw the clouds through the window, Rachel caressed her belly and whispered, "It's just me and you now, my angel."

Meters below, Tom watched the small plane until it disappeared in the distance. "Goodbye, Rachel. Be safe," he whispered under his breath. A tear sliding down his cheek.

* * *

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* * *

Author's Note: Apologies for the delay in updating! It is totally my fault. I had to do some travelling for a few months. The writer, acalanto, had this chapter months ahead already. It was my editing that took a long time. I hope you all enjoy this story! - JOYS of October.


	11. Never Alone

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay. We still don't own the TLS characters. So excited to see RM again on TV (Supergirl S4)! We hope that you continue to enjoy this story. Updates will be faster, hopefully!

* * *

 **Never Alone**

"It's a pleasure finally meeting you, Admiral Chandler- Do you prefer Admiral or do you go by Chandler or Thomas?," she asked , extending her hand.

He was reminded of the fact that the news of his retirement had not been disclosed; the President had agreed to withhold this information until he was installed in his new home.

Mrs. Kershaw was a petite woman with brown almond eyes and a warm smile. Traces of one delicate beauty could still be seen in her face with aristocratic features. In a superficial assessment, she looked fragile, as though a soft breeze would knock her off her feet. But a closer look shows an unbreakable spirit despite the apparent physical fragility.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Kershaw. My friends call me Tom," he said shaking her hand carefully.

"Please call me Audrey, Tom."

"Let's sit down!" Mrs. Kershaw invited him.

As he sat his eyes were drawn to the beautiful landscape that opened beyond the window. At the foot of the mountains that stood majestic and imposing, a meadow covered with flowers and green grass could be seen and two black horses grazed peacefully. He breathes deeply, the air is fresh and clean, it smelled of new mowed hay and wild flowers.

"This is a beautiful place you have here, Mrs. Kershaw… I mean Audrey," he corrected himself.

"It was a gift from my father when I turned 18, he knew of my love for mountains and horses. I started horse-riding when I was 4 years old. Do you like to ride horses?"

"I can balance myself on a horse, but I do not call it riding."

"That bad, huh?"

"Worse! Horses seem to take pleasure in throwing me to the ground; I can say that it was not just my ego that was hurt in those few encounters."

She laughed humorously and asked, "Do you prefer the sailing of a ship and the waves of the sea?"

"The sea has always attracted me since I was very young, it calms me down. Horses have the opposite effect on me."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, madam," a young girl carrying a tray approached them. On the tray were ceramic teapot, cups and some biscuits.

"Thank you, Agatha. Tea or coffee?" Audrey asked Tom.

"Coffee would be good," Tom replied.

The girl served the two, giving him a nervous smile as she served him and spilling some coffee on the table. "Sorry, Sir, " then she withdrew discreetly, not before giving him a look of admiration.

While she drank her tea, she smiled at him and said. "Sorry for the behavior of the girl, she cannot remain indifferent to your charm. You are a very interesting man and not just because you are a legend."

"I'm not a hero. Far from that, Audrey," he replied while taking a sip of his coffee.

"You did what was necessary to ensure that people like her and me could survive. So in my book you are a hero."

He took another sip of coffee and replied, "I had a great team, good men and women under my command and a brilliant scientist who refused to be defeated."

"Dr. Rachel Scott."

"Yes. She's one of the bravest, brightest and most determined people I've ever met."

"A little bird told me that you and her have a lot in common. The same fighting spirit and the same stubbornness. You two have a beautiful story together."

"Some members of the press can be creative. They do anything to sell news," he said with undisguised contempt.

"I was referring to your work. I do not like reading the tabloid either."

"Forgive me, Audrey. I was rude, and that wasn't my intention."

She looked with compassion at the bereaved man in front of her. He was good at masking his emotions, she realized, a certain aura of calm enveloped him like a protective cloak. But she recognized the effort Tom was exerting to keep his emotions under such tight control. In recent weeks, the media have dissected every aspect of the life and losses of this man. His pain became public. No wonder he had so much contempt for the media.

"You have the right to be bothered by all the media's excessive attention. Let's talk about more pleasant matters, Tom. I was told that you want to rent one of my properties."

"Yes, President Michener informed me that the house is yours. But he did not give me any more information. He said that you wanted to meet me in person so that you could make a decision."

"In fact, the house belonged to my sister. She loved that house; it was her refuge, where she isolated herself to do her job. She was very happy with the man she loved and there she died of sadness after losing him. My family, they have always insisted that I sell it. All those years I've kept that house because it reminds me of my beloved sister."

"Isabeau Navarre?"

"My older sister, Isabeau, green eyes like the most precious emerald, a free spirit, a captivating smile, strong and so fragile at the same time. Her life was brief but intense." Then a sad smile curved her lips, and the weight of the years showed on her face. "Sorry, Tom, talking about my sister always makes me nostalgic. The past can bring bittersweet memories."

"You don't have to apologize, I understand."

Audrey smiled through tears, "I know you can. It is not death that kills whom we love, it is forgetfulness."

"Yes…" he said and lets out a long sigh.

"Your sister was very talented; I saw some of her books. And Rachel had a certain fascination for her history with Jacob."

"Ah, she found her diary, I presume. When I loaned the house to Jeffrey Michener I knew the possibility existed, after all I kept her bedroom almost the same way she left before her premature death. I kept the house almost like a sanctuary. Wait! Rachel. Are you talking about Rachel Scott, the scientist who found the cure?"

"Did not you know the house was for Rachel?" Tom asked Aubrey in puzzlement.

A stupid question, he realized as soon as he had asked it. Michener hid from him the truth, why would he tell others. The answer is that even after months from Rachel's "death" he still feels betrayed.

"No, I've known Jeff since he was a kid, he and my son Max are best friends practically from the cradle. If he made me this request it was because it was important, so I did not ask questions."

"Thank you, the house is safe, secluded, the place is a paradise, after everything that has happened, Rachel needed a place like to rest and heal."

"When I learned of her death I was very sad, her vaccine saved many members of my family. The day I discovered that she was alive, I thanked God for this miracle. She seems to have recovered both physically and emotionally from her ordeal."

"Yes, Rachel's fine. She is safe, out of reach of all those who could harm her."

"Do you worry about her?"

He didn't deny it. "Even though she's away from me now, Rachel will always be a part of my life."

 _It seemed that the old estate had witnessed yet another love story._ _His eyes soft and nostalgic as he spoke of her, her name on his lips carried the sweetness of a lover._

"Are you in love with her?" She asked kindly.

The directness of the question took Tom by surprise. All channels of communication had reported the death of his wife. He assumed that Audrey had access to this information. "My wife died just 2 weeks ago. I am a mess most days."

"A broken heart can still love."

"Maybe," then he adds quietly, "if there is still one."

"Death of loved one is always devastating; I know that very well. My sister Isabeau died when she was very young and I lost part of my family and many dear friends to this epidemic. But marriage is not always synonymous with love; sometimes people marry for fear of loneliness, for despair, to try to forget a lost love, and sometimes they remain married by obligation. You should see yourself when you talk about her. Rachel holds a special place in your heart, I see it in your eyes, I read it in your face."

"Am I so transparent?" he asked worriedly.

"To me? Yes. I've been there and I know the signs. The heart speaks more clearly than words, and yours is screaming."

"Love can be tricky," he replied, his eyes lost at one point in the distance. The one who claimed to love him took everything from him. He didn't really trust his own judgment now.

"Give yourself a second chance, Tom," Audrey softly advised him.

He looked at her and said, bitterness creeping into his voice, "I already had a second chance, it didn't go exactly as I imagined. I doubt God or fate will grant me another attempt."

"Do you believe in fate?"

"No, I believe in choices. And unhappily I made the wrong choices."

"Falling in love is one of the best experiences of life. That's why I got married twice and I'm looking for my third husband. It's too bad that you're so young," she said with a wink.

A spontaneous laugh escaped his lips. Audrey is a very peculiar woman.

Then in a serious voice she added. "When the heart decides what it wants, there is nothing that we can do beside enjoying the ride. Your heart has already chosen who to love. Try again."

"You remind me of my father, Audrey. The same direct way of telling the truths that I, most of the time, did not want to hear."

"I am honored by the comparison; your father seems to have been a good man."

"He was _..._ He also tried guiding me in the right direction, as you are doing, but I was too blind to see what was in front of me. It's too late now."

"It's never too late for love. You are not ready to accept that your place is beside her, but that day will come."

"There is no 'we,' Audrey. Rachel and I are just friends." Then he muttered, low under his breath. "She deserves a better man than I am."

"You look like my sister; she also gave up the love of her life, thinking that she knew what was best for him. In the end, neither one of them was happy away from the other."

"I'm not a good company for anyone now. That's why I need your house."

 _His wounds are too raw, she noted. The pain would not allow him to think clearly, maybe time would help him. She just hoped she's doing the right thing._

"I've always liked cowboy stories, and you Americans look perfect in these stories…maybe you can convince me to rent the house for you," she said, her face serious but her eyes were twinkling.

"How would I do that?" he asked cautiously. He has a good idea of what Audrey has in mind.

"If you choose to accept my invitation," she said, "I'd like you to accompany me to the stables…"then she poured himself more tea and took a sip.

He groaned internally, his whole body tensed as he imagined himself on top of a horse.

"…To _meet_ Ares, an Arab horse that I just bought. You just need to see the horse; you do not have to ride it, Tom."

"Of course," he responded quickly and enthusiastically.

So the laughter that was in her eyes extended to her lips. Her smile was contagious. Tom could not help smiling back.

"Thanks, Audrey," he said, his lips curved with a smile. His thanks went beyond the fact that he did not have to ride a horse; it also extended to the small moments of joy in a world that in the last weeks was only darkness and pain.

"My pleasure, Tom. My lawyers can write a contract that satisfies the two of us."

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"Are you sure about this?" Mike asked without hiding his concern.

"Yeah, I'm sure; I need time to deal with everything that has happened."

"We both know it's not just that, you're trying to punish yourself, aren't you?"

Pain flashed across Tom's face before he was able to mask it, "I'll be fine."

Mike had never seen his friend so broken and it terrified him because he felt so helpless to help.

"I have made all arrangements, Mr. Jonathan Baker will bring supplies once every two months, he can be trusted completely. I'll take care of your investments and Mrs. Kershaw has asked me to give you a letter."

"Thanks, Mike," he said as he extended his hand to receive the envelope from his friend. "I know you're worried about me, but the best you can do for me is to live your life, enjoy the time with your family, and tell others that I appreciate the help."

"Just promise me you won't do anything reckless, alright? Promise to keep in touch," Mike said while giving his friend a firm handshake and a pat on Tom's arm.

Everything hurts in an almost unbearable way and sometimes he would like to feel nothing. But death was not an option for him. He would never betray those he loved that way. Alone, sad, full of pain, broken, but he was going to live. He owed it to them.

"I've never seen you so scared, I must look pretty bad. Such an idea never crossed my mind. Never. Death would be too easy."

"Hell! You can't just give up. You can change the ending of this story…"

"How? We do not even know where she is. This pain is all I need now, all I have, all I want."

"It's not true, you have us."

"I know, but I can't stand being around anyone now. Let me deal with things my way. Please…"

"All right, but keep the radio on. I want to be able to talk to you and this is not open to negotiation."

"I can do this," Tom assured Mike.

Tom watched from the beach as the boat sailed away and gave Mike a last farewell wave. Then he took slow steps towards his new home.

With Mrs. Kershaw's envelope in his hand, he closed the door behind him. Then he sat down on the couch and closed his eyes.

When he woke up, he hissed in pain. His neck was sore from the awkward position he'd slept in.

"Shit," he swore under his breath.

He turned his head from side to side and back and forth to try to ease the tension that built along his neck and shoulders. Carefully he reached down and retrieved the envelope that had fallen to the floor. He opened it and began reading Aubrey's letter.

 _Tom,_

 _I realized when we talked that there is a lot of pain and sorrow in your heart that the house will be for you a refuge,_ _but a refuge can become a prison, because not every prison needs walls._ _I had the feeling that you're running away, but we can never run away from ourselves._

 _Along with the letter, I am sending the deed of the property, that is it, I'm giving you this house. I'm very old and I'll die soon, it's time to find my loved ones again. At least, that's what I believe. I am sure that the house of my beloved sister will be in good hands, your hands._

 _Tom, life is too short to be lived with regrets. I pray to God that you find some peace, but too that you change your mind and go to pursue your happiness._

 _Audrey Kershaw_

 _Well, that solved a few things, not having to look for a new home after six months, he thought._

Later that day, as he was taking his clothes off his suitcase, his fingers touched an envelope that was in the bottom. He took the envelope and placed it on the chest of drawers, but it fell, spreading the contents on the floor.

He cursed loudly and knelt to gather the photographs, trying not to look at them. But it was impossible, photos of his parents, his siblings, Darien, his beloved wife, his children at different ages. Sam dressed for his first Halloween, he was proud of his Spider Man costume. He smiled as he remembered that the little boy thought he could climb the walls like his hero. And he had been trying, leaving their parents torn between laughter and worry. His hand closed over the photograph and then a tear slid over his face. Followed by another and another.

He collapsed to the floor, clutching the photograph between his fingers; the tears became sobs that threatened to tear him in two. He shouted until his throat was raw and his voice cracked. Surrounded by fragments of his past, he rocked like a child, then the exhaustion overtook him and he fell into a restless sleep.

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"Are we simply giving up?" Cruz asked.

"We are not giving up; there is nothing we can do now," Mike replied.

"I tried to find her, but all my efforts were useless. It seems that she doesn't want to be found," Val added.

"Sir, she told us she was going home. She can only be in England," Rodriguez said.

"The British government denies knowing about her whereabouts," Mike said.

"They may be lying," Jackson thought out loud.

"Yes, but we cannot accuse them of that. She's smart, she speaks several languages, and she wants to disappear."

"No one can simply disappear from the face of the earth without a trace. She has to be somewhere; the woman is the best-known person in the world," Burk replied.

"She has reasons to want to disappear. She loved him, a married man who would never abandon his pregnant wife. How could we not have seen what she was? How did we become so blind?"

"We cannot change what happened, Kara. Rachel can return on her own account when she knows the truth. The truth that we can disclose," Green tried to calm his wife.

"His widowhood only complicates things, Danny.""

"Why?" Miller asks clearly confused, "Now he is free."

"The press described him as a grieving widower. No woman wants to compete with the ghost of a beloved wife," Val clarified to Miller.

Mike understood Val's argument. He had access to information that made him more worried, Tom and Rachel had slept together and then he went back to his wife. Tom had chosen his wife out of duty and obligation, but Rachel did not know that. She could only think that Tom loved his wife and the night they had together was based only on physical attraction.

"So we tell her the truth," Miller continued.

"For that we need to find her first, Miller," Wolf added.

"So what do we do?" Cruz asked.

"He chose to be exiled and that means he is the only one who can break himself out of it. In the end it's his choice," the Master Chief reminded all of them.

"And we all know how stubborn he can be…this really sucks," Wolf commisserated.

"I don't mean any disrespect, but…Is it safe to leave him there alone?" Miller asked from his superiors.

"He is not suicidal. Death would end the pain, with its suffering; he wants to prolong the agony as long as possible. Living for him is the worst punishment," Mike explained to the others.

"That is not life…"

"No, but that's all we have, the certainty that he wants to live," Master Chief concluded.

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He had left, but his heart had stayed here, at least a part of him. That's why he had to come back.

He was still in the process of grieving, torn between the desire to forget and the need to remember, it made everything slow, difficult, and painful.

Some days his emotions were like a turbulent sea threatening to swallow him. Others days he felt so numb, as if nothing could touch him.

Amidst the chaos that had become his life, she was a constant presence, and most of the time welcome. A source of comfort, mixed with a good dose of agony.

Unable to sleep, he watches the stars through his bedroom window. During the day, he did his best to tire his body, expecting to sleep due to exhaustion, but his mind seems to have its own source of energy and it simply does not turn off.

"Why can't I forget you? "he shook his head, rubbing his temples in frustration. "You certainly erased me from your life."

 _You acted like a selfish bastard, what did you expect?_

"Damn it," he snarled and crawled out of bed, sleep would not come tonight.

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Rachel had awoken due to the movement in her stomach. While caressing her belly, trying to calm her restless baby, who kept kicking and moving, seeming to play inside her mother's womb. She whispered, "I wonder if you are a football player, a dancer, or maybe you are just as demanding as your dad." The baby seems to agree with last affirmation, kicking again, harder this time. A tired smile spread across her face, "My angel let your mommy rest."

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A new day is being born. The rays of the sun gradually claimed everything in its path. The cloak of the night was disappearing to reveal all the colors, the green of the trees, and the small drops of dew that were melting in its leaves, the brown of the earth below. The yellow of a butterfly flying around, their velvet wings buzzing from flower to flower, the crimson of a flower, the turquoise blue of the endless sea. And how to praise all these, the birds sing their sweet melody.

The sun's first beams now gently caress the man's sleeping face on the couch. The tiredness written on every line of his face, the sadness that not even sleep can ease.

Here, he thinks he can stop time, remaining stuck in the past, eternally hostage to his pain, his regrets, and his suffering. As the night cannot stop the birth of a new day, time cannot be stopped. The changes will come, and they have already begun.

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"Hello, my angel," Rachel says stroking the newborn in her arms. "You're perfect and I love you so much," she whispered while kissing the baby's head. Rachel looked exhausted but serene and very happy.

"What name will you give your baby?"

"Theresa," Rachel responded, tracing the shell of the baby's ear with her finger. Gently her fingers caress baby's head and then she counted if all the ten little fingers were there. The infant yawned and stretched into her mother's arms; her eyes fluttered open and then closed again.

She pressed her lips to the baby's smooth forehead, "Her eyes are blue," she observed, delighted by the discovery.

With sleepy eyes, she contemplated the delicate package that sleeps so peacefully in her arms. Then she felt her eyes fill with tears and raw guilt constricted her throat.

 _Forgive me, Tom!_

"Hey, you're going to be a great mum," Violet comforted Rachel when she saw tears in her eyes.

"Th-thank you," Rachel replied, wiping the tears from her face and leaned up to press her lips against baby's head once more.

"There are people out there, eager to meet this little princess; I can take her while Violet takes care of you," Cameron told Rachel.

Reluctantly, Rachel delivered her daughter to the older woman. Before falling asleep due to fatigue, she saw a butterfly come in through the window, fly through the bedroom and then leave.

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While taking care of the orchard, Tom was surprised to notice that a blue butterfly has landed on his finger; he observed that the insect did not seem in a hurry to leave.

"Okay, make yourself comfortable, there's nothing here that cannot wait. If I remember correctly, a butterfly is considered the symbol of transformation, of renewal, the blue butterfly refers to metamorphosis, therefore, of the transformation that humans pass through life, such as the birth of a child, for example.

"This is what happens when you stay alone too long, you start talking to animals, accessing information you did not even remember existed in your brain, I'll be talking to the trees soon," he grunts and the little being flew away.

"Thomas Chandler, you're going nuts," he declared before going back to work.

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"Hello little fairy, we will take good care of you and your mother, welcome to the Scott clan," Ian declared to the infant in Cameron's arms.

"We are not in the Middle Ages, Ian, we are a family, not a clan, your fool," Ronald rebuked his cousin.

"Who are you calling a fool?" Ian asked, his eyes twinkling. "He represents the grouchy side of the family, my dear," he whispered to the baby in Cameron's arms.

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Ashley started walking at 13 months. At first, her steps were shaky, a surprised smile on that little angelic face. She fell a few times, but as she gained confidence, she was ready to test-drive her newly discovered mobility skills, in all directions that her little feet could carry her. When this happened, he thought of all the small and big victories that they would still share throughout their lives.

His daughter, she would have been thirteen now, no more a child, and no more questions about why the sky is blue. How did the stars reach the sky? If mother is happy, why is she crying? Why cannot I stay up as late as you? How did I get into Mom's belly? Why cannot I sleep with my eyes open? Since your eyes are blue, does that mean you see everything in blue? How did people get inside the TV?

Through the child, almost adolescent, sweet, compassionate, fiercely protective of those he loved, brave, who sometimes surprised him with her mature attitude from someone so young, he could glimpse the woman she would become. He would never know. It hurt to think that his daughter did not have a chance to grow up. Her premature death did not give him a chance to answer the new questions she would have asked from him.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine her as an adult, but the image that came to his mind is from his little girl taking her first steps. In her childlike eyes, there was confidence and a sense of wonder as she discovered her new ability.

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With open arms, Rachel sweetly beckoned towards at her daughter, encouraging her baby to continue.

When finally the baby approached the mother, it received an emotional hug and a kiss, which brought a happy smile to the baby's face, , "Mommy loves you so much, my little angel."

"I managed to record everything," Ian declared jovially.

"I took some photos just to make sure we did not miss anything," said his wife Violet.

The baby was hugged, kissed, and congratulated by her family. Although she did not understand the reasons for all that happiness, she could feel the love and it made her happy, her sweet smile enchanting them all.

Days turned into weeks, which turned into months, which turned into years. As Theresa grew up and became a lovely little girl, her mother told her about her father, and tried to explain why he had never come to see her. His daughter knew him as the intrepid Captain with silver hair and blue eyes like the sea.

Each time she looked at her daughter, the guilt of keeping them apart pressed her heart. But her fears were like trees of deep roots, so attached to the earth that fed her, the fear of rejection. He had loved Darien and Sasha. She had only been a source of comfort to him, a friend for whom he felt physically attracted.

She loved the child, sweet, loving and full of imagination. But sometimes her wild imagination and thirst for adventure is a test for her mother's patience.

"Uh, not so fast Theresa! You're not going anywhere. You're grounded," Rachel reminded her daughter.

"But mum…" Theresa started her complaint.

"Not another word! You are not going. Is that clear?" God! I'm channeling Tom, she thought as she looked into her daughter's angry eyes. Her beautiful blue eyes, so much like her father's.

"I hate you! I want my dad," Theresa shouted and left crying.

"She didn't mean what she said. She loves you; she's just upset."

Taking a deep breath, she offered him a smile. "I know, Ian, but it's painful to hear it from her lips. I just don't know what we're going to do with her. As a result of her reckless behavior, she could have broken her neck."

"She is only five years old and she rode the horse alone. I wonder how she did it?" At Rachel's exasperated look, he quickly added, "Theresa is just a child, being curious and experiencing things is natural at this stage with her."

Sometime she wonders how she could control the impulsive character of her daughter without destroying her natural desire to learn.

"You will not fail, Rachel. Theresa loves you more than anyone in the world. Just talk to her."

"Thank you, Ian."

"That's what the family is for," he said.

She talked to her daughter trying to make her understand that what she had done was dangerous. Theresa apologized for saying she hated her and promised she would never disobey her order again. She knew that this promise would only be kept until something new and exciting appeared that will catch her daughter's attention.

Some hours later…

In one minute, life can take a turn for the worst. She fell down the stairs. Two days later, her daughter was still scared, afraid to leave her mother out of sight. The child even insisted on sleeping with her.

"I'm fine, honey, it was just a scratch," she said trying to reassure the frightened child.

"I called you many times, but you didn't answer," Theresa said with tears in her eyes, "And there was blood and…"

"Oh, my angel," Rachel softly said, embracing her daughter tightly to assure her that everything was fine, "I just fainted." _My head is as hard as your dad´s._

"You do not go away like my dad, will you?" Rachel felt her chest tighten at her daughter's question. _God! What did I do, Tom?_

"He—Theresa, your father never abandoned you."

"Why has he never come to see me? There are several types of transport, train, plane, bus, boat," she ticked the count off with four fingers, "Why did he never call me? Everybody has a phone, mum."

"Because…" her voice was raw with emotions and tears welled up in her eyes. _Because I never told him about you, oh my love, he does not know that you exist._

She always knew in her heart that this day would come. The day when she would have to tell him the whole truth. Her daughter was growing up fast, questions about her absent father are becoming more frequent. Rachel's explanations no longer satisfied her little girl.

"Are you in pain, mum?"

"I am fine. I love you so much. I feel like hugging you and not letting go ever again."

"Mum, you're squishing me."

"Am I? You are my baby, hugs and kisses is written in the mother's manual." Teresa's laughter filled the room while her mother held her in her arms and showered her with kisses.

"Tell me his story again," the little girl asked.

"Ok…There was once a ship called Nathan James, the ship was commanded by a Captain with blue eyes like the sea and the silver hair like the moon…" Rachel started.

"My dad."

"Yes, your dad, Thomas Chandler. The most stubborn man I've ever met in my life. But he can be very sweet, too. You have your father's beautiful blue eyes. Oh Theresa, you're growing up so fast."

"I'm going to be six years old soon. I'm already big, can I have a horse?" she asked hopefully with an angelic smile on her face.

"You will not approach an unattended horse, Theresa."

"How about a butterfly?"

"Butterflies cannot be pets; you cannot hold a butterfly in a cage."

"Horse is too big, butterfly is too small. But a dog does not need a cage and would not hurt me. Can I have a dog?"

Sometimes she was surprised at her daughter's ability to argue _._

 _Her father is a brilliant strategist._

 _Yes, but this feature is not genetic._

 _No,_ _but studies indicate a link between intelligence and genetics. It's time for him to know the truth, Tom deserves to know he has a daughter._

 _He's going to hate me._

 _This is not about you, your daughter's happiness is more important._

 _I don't know if I can do this._

 _If something happens to you, she'll be left alone._

 _She has a family here._

 _Is not the same thing._

"I'll think carefully about your birthday present, I promise. It's late; you and I need to sleep."

"All I have ever wanted was my dad to be here for my birthday," said Theresa in a sleepy voice.

Rachel looked down at her sleeping daughter, her precious little angel. "I can promise you that I will do my best to make it happen," she whispered against her dark tresses.

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It was raining that night. Standing next to his bedroom window, he watched lightning cutting through the sky, followed by thunder and the wind whistling in the windows.

He had been here a long time, had seen many storms since his return. But every time that happened, he remembered the one that was not even present, but was a constant presence.

There was something reassuring in excruciating pain; lives had been lost because of him. He deserved the pain, and the loneliness.

But time is a funny thing, it turns vivid images into blurred memories. Now he could spend days without remembering them, which made him feel relieved and equally guilty.

She, Rachel, he could not forget. Because she was different. She was not just a memory. She was hope. She reminded him of the man he was. She made him want to be that man again. She made him want a life he cannot have.

He is tired of the life he has taken so far, of empty days, of sleepless nights, of overwhelming loneliness, of dancing on the edge of the abyss, of pretending that he feels nothing, when in fact he feels everything. But he is too weak to break the cycle.

 _You're a coward, Thomas Chandler!_

Guided by lightning through the windows, he descended the stairs to the kitchen. But the kitchen was also full of memories of her. How much is too much? Some might say that 3 days is nothing. He only had three days. But it was the memories of those days that gave him comfort every time loneliness threatened to suffocate him, and the pain of loss was hard to bear.

He lights a candle and looks for the ingredients to make hot chocolate. The occasional rays entering through the windows and candle light illuminate his body as he moves through the kitchen, casting ghostly shadows on the walls. Nothing more appropriate, the man he is now is just the shadow of what he once was.

Sitting on the couch he slowly savored his drink, watching the storm with a sad smile on his face. He remembers her sleeping expression, her closed eyes, and a smile hovering over her lips as he read poems to her. There are bad days, there are bearable days and there are good days like today.

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"Excuse me, sir. There's someone who'd like with speak to you."

He looked at the boy, because that was what Oliver Campbell was, a boy and suddenly he felt so old. Because he looked at him as if he were a hero. Most of the time he did his duties properly, but sometimes as at that moment he acted as if he were five years old and scared to disappoint his hero. Arming himself with patience he asked, "Does this person have a name or did he say what he wanted?"

"She."

"Campbell," the way his commander said his name showed that he was nearing the end of his rope.

"The voice is female, sir, with a British accent. You told her to call if she needed anything. That you would be in Norfolk. That's what she said, sir."

Mike's eyes widened and a big smile spread across his face. "Thank God!"

Oliver was shocked, his commander is a good man, fair, who sometimes told jokes that nobody understood, but he has the temperament of a bear with a toothache. He'd never seen his commander this happy before.

"Cancel all my appointments for the rest of the morning."

"But sir, you have an important meeting in twenty minutes….."

"Cancel this meeting. I'm not even here if the President calls me. Go, what are you waiting for?"

"Hello, Rachel. I've been waiting for this call for a long time."

"Hello, old friend. I need your help, Mike."

* * *

Hate it? Love it? Leave a word!


	12. The Reunion

" **You have to leave the island in order to see the island." José Saramago**

 **Chapter 12 - The Reunion**

* * *

 **Present Day**

Rachel could hardly sleep. She tossed and turned on her bed thinking about him. Her head spins, thinking of all the things she was not ready to face. With a sigh, she reached out and turned on the bedside lamp and she slipped out of bed to put on a robe over her nightdress.

She went into her daughter's bedroom. Theresa is sleeping peacefully on her side hugging her teddy bear, a toy she had received as a gift from Ian when she was two years old. She loved that toy. Rachel bent down and murmured, "I love you so much, sweetie," gently stroking her daughter's cheek. "I wish I could sleep like you, but just thinking about seeing your father again makes my stomach twisted."

She went downstairs to the kitchen and started boiling water for her tea. With the cup in her hands, she opened the door and stepped outside into the garden. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the jasmine's sweet aroma, her mother's favorite flower. Her mother would always put this flower in her hair when she was a little girl.

For many years this house had been her reference, not just a place, but her home, her safe haven, until her mother's death changed everything. She left it as she did not want to remember what she had lost. Going back had been a way to reconcile with her past, to allow the wound to heal at last.

By the end of her pregnancy when she had become very big and heavy and could not sleep, she would sit on a chair facing the window overlooking the garden. Her baby had taken her first steps in that garden. She had spent pleasant hours with Theresa in her lap, sometimes inhaling the newly bathed scent of her or when she was breastfeeding.

She suddenly felt as if she was being watched, but dismissed this possibility. The tingling sensation on her skin was probably due to her wearing a thin robe over her flimsy nightgown in the garden in the wee hours of the morning.

A few steps away he watches her unnoticed, hidden by the cloak of darkness. He was trained in camouflage techniques. He's so good that it's almost impossible to spot him, unless he wants to show himself. That's why the woman a few steps away from him had not noticed his presence. Which gave him the opportunity to observe her.

She was wearing a short, silky white nightgown and a matching robe, tied loosely at her waist. Her long brown hair that she always wore in a braid was shorter, falling to just below her shoulders. She's drinking, probably one of those horrible tea she likes so much. To him, time has not diminished her beauty or even the impact she has on him. His mind can deny everything he wants, but his heart beating in his chest like an old war drum and a state of euphoria just by being near her, tells him that he still loves this woman.

For years his only reality had been the island. His most frequent companion, the pain. A self imposed exile, isolated from others, but never alone, his heart was full of memories and the ghosts that accompanied these memories demanded his attention. Echoes of another life, happy moments of the man he had been.

He no longer wants to live alone, mourning the loss of what could have been. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and chooses the only acceptable option. He emerges from the shadows and moves toward his goal in a slow but determined pace.

She tried to swallow the painful and burning lump in her throat by taking a sip of tea to calm her nerves. In a few hours, she would see him again and just thinking about that encounter made her nervous, scared, and happy at same time. In her mind, she seeks to anticipate his reactions, his questions, and perhaps defend herself against his accusations. Knowing Tom, as she knows, he is surely furious with her and she cannot blame him for it.

Sadness flickered in Rachel's eyes and she sighed heavily, whispering his name under her breath. Closing her eyes for a second, she could almost swear he was close, not just in thought, but physically.

"Rachel, "a familiar voice said, so soft it looked more like a caress brought by the light breeze.

She turned abruptly, the cup slipping from her fingers, hitting the ground with a dull thud. Although the dim lights in the garden would not allow her to see his face clearly, she could recognize that voice anywhere.

"Tom?" she asked, surprised. She blinked, hoping he would disappear, maybe he was the result of her imagination, of her lack of sleep. But he was still a few steps away from her. The color that she has always associated with him was blue, but here he was dressed in all black from head to toe, walking slowly towards her.

"Hi, Rachel," he said as he stepped towards her. Stopping within an arm's length from her.

When brown eyes meet blue, a silent, solitary tear ran down her face caused by the mixture of regret and longing that produced physical pain in her chest.

He was still Tom, but at the same time he was not.

Time had left new lines on his face. There were a few wrinkles around his eyes and new lines around his mouth. He had dark circles under his eyes as though he hadn't slept well in weeks. Life as a soldier had given him some scars, physical and emotional. How many others hid under the clothes? What other horrors had he witnessed? What marks had these horrors left in his soul?

Tom could be an intimidating man. Dressed all in black, he was a breathtaking sight. She remembers who he was, of who he still is, a soldier at the core, with training and combat experience. A man who has a dangerous side. But not for her, never for her. Because she knows him. Because his blue eyes show a loneliness that finds echo in the bottom of her soul.

Still trying to process the fact that he was actually in front of her, she whispered, "You should not be here, it's too early."

"As you can imagine I'm a little impatient to see my daughter. I've been away too long."

She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself, lowering her gaze for a second.

He waited for her to say something, but she didn't. Her protective arms around herself. "Are you cold?" he asked.

She shook her head in negative as she continued to rub her own arms.

"Yes, you are. I didn't mean to startle you," he apologized and took another step.

"How did you get here, Tom?"

"It was not an easy path," he said, taking another step, closing the distance between them. "Finding a way through the darkness is always more difficult."

Suddenly he seemed very close. Her hands twitching with the need to reach out and touch him. No. No. No. You can't. You know why he's here. He could not be anything other than the father of her daughter. She had already accepted it. Maybe a friend. _Liar,_ whispered a small voice in her head. _You don't want the friend, you want the man._ She swallowed hard and waited, watching him. He still stared fixedly at hers, making her heart flutter wildly in her chest. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly trying to get her heart rate back to normal. Not an easy task considering he's just a step away from her. The proximity arousing all sorts of memories. And needs.

On the surface he seemed calm and controlled, only he knew how difficult it was to pretend a calm that he was far from feeling. It was like holding a wild foal struggling for freedom, it was only a matter of time before the rope would break under pressure.

Rachel. His Rachel. Not a dream, a memory, a fantasy conjured up by his solitude, but the real woman. A woman who was now within reach of his arms and for all that is sacred he would do his best for her to want to be in them again. He could smell her breath, sweet and spicy. Cinnamon and ginger, he realized. The tea. At least she was not drinking that grassy tea. He remembered when they shared a cup of tea on the ship's deck to commemorate her creation of the prototype of the vaccine. That tea had been horrible, bitter and hard to swallow; only good manners had kept him from spitting the drink.

Seeing how the corners of his mouth tilted in amusement, she raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"You still like tea, but it seems that your preferences have changed."

"Oh, you do remember!"

"How could I forget? It tasted like grass."

She snorted out a derisive laugh.

He lifted his own gloved hand and reached out slowly to take a lock of her hair between his fingers.

"You've cut your hair," he said.

God! She had missed him. Still… She pulled back , putting more space between them, fearing that he could read her emotions.

"Some things needed to change, "she said, self-consciously running a hand through her hair. "Talking about change…. I don't think I've ever seen you in all black."

"Camouflage technique," says Tom as he takes off his cap, runs his fingers through his silver hair before settling the cap again.

"It's good to see you Tom. But… should you not still be sleeping at this time? Like every normal human being. You could have waited until tomorrow."

"It's 2:15 a .m.," he replies looking at his watch. "Technically it's tomorrow. I could ask you the same question. Should not you be in bed too?"

"I couldn't sleep because my anxiety was through the roof," she admitted and then she bends down to pick up the pieces of the broken cup. She was feeling insecure and needs time to deal with her chaotic emotions.

He knelt down in front of her, so he was eye level with her. "Well, I couldn't sleep either. I'm sorry again, in my defense I did not expect to find anyone awake at this hour."

"It's ok, my mind was too far away," she replies and then added softly without looking at him, "I was thinking about you."

The honesty of her answer surprised him and he let a genuine smile spread over his face, his first real smile in many years. Being able to feel, something as simple as a smile, was like having a piece of his soul back. Only she made him feel like this. Alive **.** He looked at her, her head was down, her hair falling forward, hiding her face.

"Rachel," he says, putting a hand over hers, "I think it was only four pieces."

More than his touch, it was his playful tone that made her raise her head to find blue eyes again. "Why aren't you upset with me?"

"I am. At least a part of me. But as a father, our daughter's well-being is more important than my feelings now."

"I'm sorry, Tom," she said, her voice tinged with regret.

"So am I," he said sadly.

 _I'm sorry that you did not trust me, for all the time lost, for a past that we cannot change, for leaving, for giving up when I should have fought._

"We need to talk, Rachel."

"I know. Come. It's best to have this conversation inside the house," she said and motioned him to follow her into the house. She went to the kitchen, threw the pieces of the cup into the trash and pointed for him to sit on the living room sofa.

Rachel to ok a deep breath as she watched him in the living room, trying to force her hands to stop shaking. He had not sat down as she had suggested, instead he was standing in the middle of the room, looking at her. He casually unzipped his jacket, revealing a black t-shirt underneath. She was amazed that he seemed so calm and so much in control of himself when she could barely keep a lid on her own emotions. Then she moved closer to him again.

"Rachel, what happened to your face?" he asked her with a frown.

After two weeks, the wound was practically healed, only a small scar above her left eye had remained. _Of course he would notice,_ she thought.

"I've had a little accident. Nothing serious."

This woman ran in the middle of a gunfight to get her research samples. She willingly put herself in the hands of the enemy to save his life. She tested a vaccine on herself. When she says "nothing serious," he worries.

"Tell me the truth," he commanded. Two seconds later, he added, "Please."

"I tripped on the steps of the stairs, fell and lost consciousness. I was sore for a few days, but I'm fine now."

He felt a lump in his stomach as he imagined the worst might have happened. Suddenly, he feels the need to touch her to make sure she's okay. He reached up with his hand, caressing the softness of her cheek. Instinctively, she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. As his fingers trailed gently along her cheek, his body moved close, closer still. Tom looked at her, his control slipping. He desperately wanted to hold her in his arms, but it was not yet the time, there were many things that needed to be resolved between them. For this he must be in control of his emotions. Upon hearing him take a deep breath, she opened her eyes and he had such a frightened expression mixed with a desperate need that she swallowed.

Rachel reached out and placed a hand on his chest. He covered her hand with his.

"I need you to stay safe," he said, his voice sounded strained and shaky. "Promise that you will take more care."

"I…" She cleared her throat. "Accidents happen, Tom."

"Rachel," he said, urgency in his voice, "promise me."

"I promise."

"Good," he said as he gave a slight grip on the hand he held.

"Would you like something to drink? I can make some tea with grass taste, your favorite," she said with a hint of impishness in her voice. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face as he shook his head. "You can take off your jacket and gloves if you want."

"I don't think you'd like to see my hand," Tom said gruffly.

He pulled away from her as he spoke, but not fast enough, because her fingers on his chest had noticed that his heart skipped a beat.

"Why?" She asked, suddenly suspicious. She looked at his hands as if she could see through the gloves.

"Oh, it's nothing!"

"Take off your gloves, Tom," she demanded.

The corners of his lips curved into a smile when she orders him around as if he were a foot-soldier. He managed not to make a salute as he knows it would only irritate her.

He realized that he had smiled more in a few minutes than he had done in many years.

With calculated, measured slowness, he put his cap on the table. His movements show an attempt to postpone the inevitable. Rachel cocked a brow in his direction, impatience flaring in her eyes.

He put one gloved hand to his mouth and used his teeth to slowly pull on the fingers to remove the glove.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "The other glove, Tom."

Carefully he removed the other glove with his free hand. She reacted immediately, holding his hand to examine the scraped knuckles. He inhaled deeply.

"Is it hurting?" she asked, her head down, focused on examining his hand.

"It's fine…"

She looked up and her silent reprimand stopped him.

"…I mean it hurts a bit, but not as bad as before."

"What happened? Did you fight with someone? Has anyone tried to break into your house again?" she asked as she ran her fingers softly over his knuckles. Then she turned his hand to check the palm.

He hesitated. He could lie and confirm that he had hit someone, but he remembered what the lies had done to his life and decided to tell the truth.

"I broke a window with my fist after reading your letter."

Rachel was staring at him, horrified. "You did what?!" she exclaimed, letting go of his hand abruptly.

"I lost control, it's not something I'm proud of, okay? But I was too angry to think rationally."

Several scenarios passed through her head, each one worse than the other, and most of them were of him bleeding to death. _How could he do something so stupid? Stupid moron, inconsiderate ass._

"You could have lost your hand or… worse." Her voice caught on the last word. Suddenly, she wanted to punch him, scream at him or just hug him, because he may be an idiot, but he's the idiot she loves. "You could have damaged tissues or joints, could have cut an artery, you could have killed yourself!"

"I'm fine, it's only a scratch," he said, flexing his fingers a few times.

Dear god, if something happened to Tom because of her, she would never forgive herself. Then her anger evaporated as quickly as it had risen. And she shot him a tormented look.

"What's done is done," he said, his voice sounded harder than he intended.

He could feel Rachel's anguish and tried unsuccessfully to hide his own. Like a good soldier who knows when he's losing the battle, he decided to step back, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

He pulled off his jacket and hung it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs while his eyes scanned the room. A collection of framed photos on the fireplace mantel caught his attention and he crossed the room to inspect them closer. "Is that our daughter?" he asked as he picked up a photo frame. His voice suddenly thickened with emotion.

Rachel nodded, suddenly not trusting her own voice.

The little one was adorable, all big and mischievous blue eyes, long eyelashes, an angel's face framed by abundant brown hair. She was dressed in blue overalls, white blouse and pink tennis shoes. Around her neck was a silver necklace.

Well, an angel that looked like it had just rolled in the grass. Her clothes were crop-dusted with dirt, as were her shoes, hair, face and hands. Trapped in her hair were some leaves was disheveled. But her infectious smile showed that she was having fun.

"She's absolutely perfect and so beautiful," he whispered softly.

His fingers following the contour of his daughter's face with reverence, some tears gathered at the edge of his eyes and falling over the frame.

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, a few tears glittering in his eyelashes.

She swallowed.

"Theresa, you named her after my mother. Why?"

"I thought you would like that."

He had, but for a while he focused more on what she had taken from him and not on what she had given him.

"My DNA and my mother's name is not enough, Rachel."

"I know. The accident made me rethink everything, made me see my mistakes and that I needed to correct them while there is still time."

"That's why you've changed your mind about my knowing about her," now he had an answer to one of his questions. Many things frighten parents and being reminded of their own mortality is definitely one of them.

"And because I finally understood that your absence was hurting her. I told her that you love her, but sometimes words are not enough, actions are necessary, and sometimes you need both."

"Sometimes people are just not prepared to tell the truth, Rachel."

"Well, the truth may hurt. That's why some people run away," she said.

"The fear of hurting yourself can lead someone to get away from what you most want."

"Who are we talking about, Tom? What are we talking about?" she asked in puzzlement.

"Regrets, I think, little moments that were lost along the way," he said looking at the frame in his hands.

"I see," she said, after a moment. He had doubts if she did.

"What does she know about me?"

"She grew up listening to stories about you, about the crew of Nathan James, our mission together. Theresa loves you."

 _No, the child loves a version of him._

To his daughter he was probably just a name, a character of her imagination, fueled by the stories her mother had told about him. It will be difficult to compete with this hero. _One step at a time,_ he counseled himself.

"How did you explain my absence to her?"

"That you were making a long trip…"

Tom's expression speaks volumes. _That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard._

She raised her hands in an exasperated gesture. "Don't look at me like that , Tom. I recognize that it was not my brightest idea. But I was not thinking clearly when I made that decision."

"You were not thinking."

"Says the man who broke a window with his fist."

Tom smiled in spite of himself. "Touché." She was definitely too smart for her own good, or for his for that matter.

"What was she doing when the photo was taken?"

"She was playing hide-and-seek; she drives me crazy sometimes when she does it. Do not be fooled by her sweet smile! Our daughter can give new meaning to the word stubborn."

"I don't know anything about my own daughter."

"She was born on a Friday morning, July 8th, after 14 hours of labor, weighing 8 pounds and 1 ounce, she started walking at 8 months. She likes insects, particularly butterflies, and has recently developed a fascination with horses. Her favorite color is turquoise…"

"I lost so much," he says, putting the photo back down on the mantle.

"I didn't think—"

"No, you didn't," he interrupted, regretting it instantly when she cringed. He walked away from her and approached the door to the garden.

He was not screaming or demanding explanations. His was voice low and full of pain, which made her feel worse. Rachel swallowed a lump in her throat and blinked tears from her eyes. She sat down on the couch and look at him, struggling to find the right words.

"Please, come here and sit down. I can't talk to you standing there."

Silently, he drops himself into a chair opposite her. When their eyes met, there was tension in her eyes as if she were preparing for battle. It saddened him, that she saw him as an adversary. That she felt a need to protect herself against him.

They had been allies and the relationship had evolved into the friendship that turned into another feeling. What are they now he wonders? Strangers who have a daughter?

 _That's not enough._ He cannot accept it. He wants more. He wants everything.

Neither said a word. Time stretched between them, dense, suffocating like a wet cloak over their heads.

He would look at her so intensely, as if he were struggling with something stronger than him, as if he was indecisive, unsure of how to act. Her tongue seemed tied because she did not know how to begin this conversation either.

He took a deep breath. She instinctively copied the gesture, as if she needed to breathe in the same beat as him.

He leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees and his head in his hands, he began to speak. "In recent years, my life has been an endless circle of pain,"then he lifted his head and looked into her eyes. "I'm so tired; tired of losing everyone I love. I am just trying to understand your motives. Because despite all my mistakes and my bad decisions, Theresa is my daughter, my baby… "

"Our daughter, Tom," she said. "Do you know what the tabloid press would do with this information?"

"Yeah, but that's not the whole truth, is it?" He knew he would have to deal with the press, but he did not want to think about it now.

"Because I was afraid," Rachel said bluntly.

"Afraid of what?"

She sighed. "You can't deny there's always been a physical attraction between us, passion, desire. Strong enough for you to break your marriage vows, but desire is not love, and for me it was not enough."

"Is that why you left?" he asked. "Because you thought I loved my wife. You didn't even give me the right to choose."

He wanted to smack himself as soon as the last word left his mouth. _Choose? Really? Choose? Chandler, you're a fucking idiot._

"You must have a selective memory, because as far as I remember I gave you a choice."

He remembers. _Are you willing to take up a relationship with me? Would you divorce your wife for me?_ He had been a fool and had turned his back on happiness in the name of duty.

"You hid from me that you were pregnant."

"I would never use our daughter as a leverage."

"I know," he said.

"You had a wife who was pregnant, a career, and a chance to rebuild your life. A second chance to be happy. There was no room in your life for me."

"To protect me, you walked away and didn't look back," he retorted.

 _Put your stubborn pride aside for one fucking minute and just tell him._

"No, I left you to protect myself. I was not willing to compete with your wife for your affection."

"There never was any competition, Rachel. She is dead. She's in the past tense now."

"No, she is not! Why are you still in mourning after all this time? People say time heals, but when you love someone, the pain remains." _I know why because I tried to forget you and I could not._

Talking about her always brought back memories he wanted to forget. Restless, he gets up from his chair. He stepped away from her and ran a shaky hand through his hair. He took a few nervous steps around the room, then came back and rested his hands on the back of the chair where he was sitting before. He pressed his lips together until they formed a tight line; his breathing was fast and shallow. His gaze fixed on a point over her shoulder. There is a nervous energy around him, a rage imprisoned wanting to break free.

"Tom, what happened?" She waited, but he didn't answer. After a moment, she got up, walked over to him and put her hands over his.

But he did not look at her. His eyes distant and tempestuous, lost in a world that only he could see.

"Talk to me, Tom," she softly pleaded with him.

He frowned and swiveled his gaze to hers.

"She—" he began but stopped. His fingers twitched nervously beneath hers and in his eyes a fury that she thought for a moment that he was going to throw the chair on the wall.

"Just breathe, Tom, breathe," she ordered.

Then she saw him close his eyes and take a deep breath as his fingers relaxed beneath hers **.**

"She's dead," repeated Tom. Then his lips curved into a bitter smile as he continued. "The beloved wife suffers a fatal accident and the husband, devastated by pain, moves away from everything and everyone. You should not believe everything you read, Rachel. The story is full of lies wrapped in an attractive package, which aims to please the reader credulous and eager for romance and tragedy."

"I don't understand, the newspapers said that she suffered an accident motivated by depression due to the loss of your child. I always thought that you loved your wife and your exile was because you can't handle the loss."

"A story can be twisted in such a way that you do not know where the truth ends and the lie begins. Do you want the truth? My marriage was a farce, a mistake, of which I bitterly regret."

"Why?"

"My _beloved_ wife had her own agenda," he said, bitterness dripping from every word _._

"What did she do?"

"She took everything away from me, everything I loved, everything that made me whole and I …" then he stopped talking at the sight of her distressed gaze. "That scares you, doesn't it? That I'm so broken, so bitter…"he asked, feeling the constriction in his throat, hearing it in his voice.

"Yes, because you're important to me, Tom, and this is hurting you. And you're wrong, you have not lost everything."

His posture relaxed and his eyes softened at her answer, but there was a hint of something like fear hovering in the depths of blue eyes.

"Thank you for coming back into my life," he spoke solemnly.

"I'll always be your friend."

"That's not enough for me, Rachel. I can't just be your friend. Do you want to know why my marriage was a failure? Because I've never loved my wife. Never. I just married her to try to forget you. No matter how far physically you were from me, you've always been in here," he says, slapping his fist on his own chest. "Because I love you."

It took a moment for what he said to register in her mind. "You love me?" she asked, confused and stunned as she takes a few steps back.

Not the reaction he expected. _Think, in the letter she says she loves you. But you're the man who broke her heart. You made love to her and then you walked away without looking back. You had other opportunities to confess your feelings and now that you discover that you have a daughter, you say the words. She is afraid, asshole. It's called self-preservation._ He stood where he was and kept trying to convince her that his feelings were true.

"I thought you knew. My feelings were so clear to others, why would it not be for you? All of Nathan James' crew knew. President Michener. Hell! Even Audrey saw through my facade of an afflicted widower and she barely knew me."

"Who's Audrey?"

"Isabeau's sister. You remember Isabeau right?"

She nodded her head in confirmation. Through the pages of an old diary she had felt connected to that woman as if she knew her. Sometimes while reading,the world in which she had lived gained colors and textures, her passion and her losses becoming so palpable that it hurt. After all these years, she still wondered why.

"Am I right to deduce that you knew where I was all this time?" Tom asked Rachel.

"The address of the house where you live is the worst-kept secret in the world."

"Why would I choose that particular house? You never thought of that?"

"Due to what happened to your baby and your wife, you wanted to stay away from everyone. I imagine President Michener had connections with the owner of that house, so it was a natural choice for you."

"It was never about her. It has always been about you. Because I was so desperate to have something from you, even if it was the memories of the two of us together in that house. Although I needed to punish myself for my mistakes, I still needed to have a thread of hope."

She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out because she was trapped by the intensity of the emotion in his eyes.

"I've only loved two women in my life, Darien and you. My relationship with Darien was built slowly; we had time to get to know each other, to forge bonds, to work on our feelings. I knew what to do, what to say, how to say them…" he declared, looking at her intently,

"You and me? Within a few months, I fell in love with you and before we could have a relationship, you died. For months I have relived in my mind our last meeting. When you came back, I just wanted to love you. I wanted you so badly that night, the night I made love to you. But the next morning, you made it clear to me that it was just sex."

"You could not hide the guilt for betraying your wife. So I asked myself what I was for you. A substitute? A source of comfort? A one-night stand?" Rachel defended herself.

"With you it was never just sex, my heart has always been involved **.** And yeah, I'm sure I looked guilty as hell as I knew I had never been able to love her. That morning I was just thinking about divorce, even after learning that she was pregnant. I just hoped you gave me a sign, anything. I felt insecure. It was a situation I had never been before."

"The message you received that morning…"

"It was hers, saying that she was pregnant."

"So you decided to stay married because of the baby?"

"She knew me well enough to know that I would not abandon a pregnant woman and used it against me."

"Had I confessed that I loved you, things would have been different?"

"To be honest with you, I don't know what my decision would have been at that time. I was so full of guilt, tied to a stupid sense of duty and honor. But I would never have rejected our daughter, if I had known of her existence."

He knew how that statement might sound in her ears, —I would not have rejected our daughter, but maybe I would have rejected you—but she deserved an honest answer.

"Maybe it just wasn't meant to be," she said, her voice lowering to almost a whisper. "A relationship between us."

"I don't believe in fate and neither do you, Rachel. My choices have determined the course of my life and my losses."

"What do you really want, Tom?" she asks, walking toward him again. But a few steps away from him, she had stopped in her tracks as if expecting his next move.

"You, in my life, in my arms again. A family. I want to leave the past behind and move on. I know I acted like an asshole and hurt you in the process," he said. "But even an asshole deserves a second chance, right?"

"I love you like I've never loved anyone before in my life, but love is not always enough and we both know it. We both made mistakes; I've hurt you…"

"And I've hurt you, too."

She asked with just a hint of sadness in her voice, "Are we now competing to know who did the most damage?"

"No, we're being honest with our feelings. What are you afraid of?"

"We have this physical attraction has always been there since we first met, and then we had sex but we never really had a relationship."

"What you are trying to say is that our feelings are not strong enough to pass the test of cohabitation as a couple. Rachel, we'll never know if we do not try. Is it really what you want, to give up? Just answer me, honestly."

"No. But our daughter…"

"Please don't. Do not use our daughter as an excuse."

"You don't understand..."

"Help me understand."

"I love you and I want that, so much, but…" A tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it away impatiently. She suddenly seemed to have difficulty verbalizing her feelings, but when her eyes locked on his, he could read her feelings with extreme clarity, perhaps because these were his own fears.

 _I don't want to get hurt again. I look strong, but you can get past through my defenses. When you left, it hurt. I can't bear the thought of going through that all over again._

"I cannot guarantee that there will be no bad days or that everything will work out in the end but..Rachel, I'm scared too, because there are too many ghosts in my past, there's a lot of pain, there's a feeling of failure. Am I afraid of failing again? Definitely. But I know I can be a good father and your life partner. We can make it work. Trust me."

 _Yes! Yes! One thousand times, yes. H_ er heart is practically screaming while her analytical mind weighed the pros and cons of a relationship with him. She just can't stop thinking. _And if? Damn it! Would you just stop it? Accept the past, and build something new. Stop running away._

"Sweetheart…"

 _Oh — oh, damn!_ When he said that, she swore his voice had dropped at least an octave. All her senses reacted not only to the way the word slipped from his tongue but to the meaning he imprinted on each syllable, warm, intense and passionate, like everything else in the man who uttered them. Her defenses melted like the drops of dew being touched by the first rays of the morning.

The corners of her mouth tipped in a smile. "You were wrong before."

He frowned in confusion. "About what? You will have to be more specific. I've made more mistakes than I can count."

"You're definitely very good with the words. I love you, Tom, and when you say it that way it's almost impossible to say No. "

"Almost?" he asked, needing the confirmation.

"Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith."

"Is that a yes?" he asked a bit anxiously.

"I don't want to run away anymore." Then she moves forward, entering his personal space. "I want everything. Is that clear enough for you, Thomas Chandler

He considers her words as the air between them almost hums with tension. It is there again, that sense of familiarity and recognition, the feeling of belonging, the spark that has not faded despite the years, the physical attraction making all his nerve endings vibrate. Desire roared and churned inside him spreading through his veins like incandescent lava.

What she sees in the depths of those blue eyes makes her breathless.

"Tom?" she asked softly.

"Crystal clear," he rasped, holding her face in his hands, looking fixedly into her eyes. "God! How I love you!"

Then he lowered his head and let his lips brush against hers. A small moan escaped Rachel's lips and he responded by pulling her closer. His mouth sought hers with the avidity of a thirsty man who had finally found an oasis in the middle of the desert. Pressing against his body, she kissed him back with the same frantic urgency.

He grabbed her waist and lifted her and pressed against the wall. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms came around his neck, her fingers playing with the silky strands of his hair. He looked like he wanted to eat her alive, but both needed oxygen, unfortunately.

When he broke the kiss, she made a sound in protest, but he lowered his mouth to the curve of her neck, sliding the edge of his tongue over her skin, and he kissed the throbbing pulse in the hollow of her throat. He continued lower and his mouth closed over her nipple through the silky cloth of her nightgown. She threw her head back and moaned loudly, pressing her nails into his shoulders.

His hands untied her robe and then pushed the straps of her nightgown . She could see the hunger in his eyes. Taking the sensitive tip of her breast into his mouth, he circled her nipple with his tongue, while his hand and fingers caressed the other. Her moans were loud and sharp. She felt her legs weakening, gratified that he slid his hands under her butt to keep her steady.

She slipped her hand under his T-shirt, dragging her fingers to touch the warm skin **.** Then she caressed his erection gently but firmly through his pants. He groaned contentedly. So close. So good. But it is not enough, she wanted more. She undid his belt buckle, found the jean's zipper but a thought made her freeze.

"Tom," she whispered without much conviction, because now his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh just behind her earlobe.

"Rachel," he purred in satisfaction **,** and lowered his mouth to hers, intending to kiss her again, but she put both hands on his chest, and pushed him back, gently but firmly. "We have to stop," she whispered to him.

"What? Why?" he asks, looking at her, his eyes full of passion.

"Theresa."

"Where?" His head turned around so fast, that she can't help laughing.

"She is not here; I just do not want her to find us like this."

He looked at her. She was practically naked, pressed between his body and the wall, legs around his waist. Her nightgown came down to her waist, leaving her breasts exposed, her hair is messy, her lips swollen, there were marks of his teeth on her neck. She looked delicious and decadent. He was still fully dressed but had a wild expression in his eyes and his erection was easy to see.

Breathing deeply, he buried his face against the curve of her neck and murmured, "You are going to be the death of me."

"I'm sorry," she says caressing his hair. "She's had some nightmares since my accident, and then she goes to my room and..." she smiles lightly. "Unless you would like to explain what we are doing to her?"

He looked up, meeting her eyes _._

"Hell no! I—," He forgot what he was going to say when she unwrapped her legs from his waist and with her hands on his shoulders, she slowly slid down his body.

"You…" His breathing was shallow and labored. Every nerve in his body cried for satisfaction. "You could have found another way."

She gave him a cheeky smile before saying, "Maybe, but sliding that way was more _satisfactory_."

For who? God! His lovely sorceress liked the power she had over him, but two can play this game. But not today. He would have other opportunities to have her in his arms and he would make her beg.

Reluctantly, he pulled the straps of her nightgown in place, putting her robe over her shoulders.

His burning eyes promised vengeance. She would wait anxiously for that.

"Whoa, we still..." she said, her hands resting on his chest.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely," he said, a smug smirk overtaking his features. "Some things haven't changed between us. Sweetheart, you still drive me crazy."

"I missed you so much, Tom."

Tom groaned and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against hers. Then he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her soft hair. Fighting against his desire for her, he took a deep breath and began to speak softly: "Alabama - Montgomery, Arizona - Phoenix, Florida - Tallahassee, Montana - Helena, Hawaii – Honolulu, Rhode Island - Providence..."

"Tom?"

"Hmm?" he muttered without opening his eyes.

"….Massachusetts – Boston, Minnesota - St. Paul, New Mexico- Santa Fe…"

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to ... relax."

Her muffled laugh vibrated against his chest. She understands the feeling. Dammit, she was wet and unsatisfied.

"Wouldn't it be easier if you let me go?"

Tom opens his eyes and smiles down at her, his eyes bear an intensity that reverberates in her chest, making her feel loved, protected, and warm inside. And if that did not turn her heart into a puddle of mush, his next words surely did.

"I'll never let you go. I like to hold you close to my heart."

Even if somewhere in her brain she knew she should not. It was a moment she had spent so many years waiting for. Part of her wants to grab him and kiss him again and… She halted her train of thought abruptly. Too late. He looked at her, as if he knew what she was thinking. He probably knew.

"Don't look at me like that, Rachel," he says hoarsely. "I'm trying to be a gentleman here."

"I love you, Tom, every part of you."

"I love this naughty side of you, Rachel."

"Just this side?" she provoked.

"Rachel," he warned her with a growl.

She gave him an innocent smile. "What?"

"Mum!"

SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Finally! We hope that the reunion of Scotch was worth the wait for all of you who reads, follows or favorites this story! This is our contribution to the new Scotch stories that are recently posted here in FFNet. We have the next chapter for the reunion almost ready. :-)

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	13. My Little Star

**Chapter 13 - MY LITTLE STAR**

* * *

Two heads twisted sharply at the child's voice. With Rachel still in his arms, he saw a cute little girl dressed in pink pajamas covered in seahorses, rubbing her eyes with one hand and holding a brown teddy bear in the other.

 _Theresa, my daughter. God! I'm not ready yet._ His impulsiveness may have spoiled everything. He should have listened to Mike, but he was too anxious to wait.

Rachel puts a hand on his chest and whispers, "It's going to be okay."

"What are you doing out of bed, Theresa?" she asked, approaching her daughter.

"When I woke up, you were not there," Theresa replied without taking her eyes off the man standing near the couch.

Tom was still in the same place, as if he'd been shocked. Too terrified to react.

"Were you scared?" Rachel asked.

"Huh-uh," Theresa replied, shaking her head.

"Come here," she said as she pulled the girl into her arms. Then she sat on the couch with her daughter on her lap.

He feels his legs giving out from under him and barely makes it into a chair, back stiff, hands clasped in his lap.

Rachel heard him take a deep breath, could feel the tension and fear from him. This is not how she had imagined this meeting. The usually exuberant little girl seemed abnormally shy, hugging her mother, her small body trembling. She inhaled deeply, kissing her daughter's hair and then a comforting smile hit her lips, letting her daughter know that everything was fine. But some of her tension must have shown.

"Are you ok, Mummy?"

He bit back a curse. _Did his daughter think he was a threat? God! Let it be something else, anything else._

Rachel was worried. Though she had fed her daughter's love for her father all these years, she knows that it can be overwhelming for the child to finally meet the man who only lives in her dreams.

"Yes, sweetie, why do you ask?"

"You were moaning I thought you were having a nightmare."

They both breathed a sigh of relief when they understood the reason for the little girl's concern. But the relief was short-lived because she could have seen something while they were engulfed in the heat of passion. Unaware of her parents' discomfort, the little one continued to speak.

"I wanted to wake you up and say it's okay, like you do when I have a nightmare."

"That's very sweet of you, but I'm okay. Nothing or nobody could hurt me with Tom here."

She gazed at him with her big soft eyes, and said, "Hi!" Then the girl buried her face in her mother's chest.

"Hi, Theresa," he tried to smile but only ends up curling one corner of his mouth.

They exchanged a glance, and waited, giving the child time to adjust to the situation.

"I know him," she says the sound muffled by the mother's chest.

"Yes, you know him. We already talked about him, remember? Tom is…"

"My Daddy," she murmured. "Is that why he was hugging you? What Mummies and daddies usually do?"

"What?!" he asked, trying to stay calm… and failing miserably.

 _Shit! What had she seen?_ He asks himself worriedly. If she saw everything, no therapy in the world will fix the damage.

Rachel looked at him with surprising calmness. She looked like she wanted to say, _don't panic!_

 _Too late, I'm already terrified._

"What do you mean, Theresa?"

"He was hugging you and you said something, he replied, then you laughed, and then you looked at him in a funny way, winking like that," the little one said blinking her eyes, "and he also looked at you, too, funny, he said I'm trying to be a gen…gen…"

"Gentleman?"

"Huh-uh..Then he spoke like him had a sore throat and…"

He ran trembling hands through his hair. He took several deep breaths. It took an effort, but he managed to calm himself down enough that he didn't hyperventilate.

In a voice so quiet Rachel could barely hear her, Theresa said: "I have a funny feeling in my belly, Mummy . Like when I climb on a tree and I'm up there and I do not know how to get down."

"You are nervous, it is normal, but that feeling will disappear when you talk to your Daddy."

She takes her head from her mother's chest and looks at him with open curiosity.

 _Breathe. Just breathe,_ he ordered himself, while the lovely childlike eyes studied him with an unusual concentration for such a young child. _What if she did not like him? What if she was disappointed to see him in person?_ He was older, a little different from the hero everyone seemed to think he was. He did not care about the opinion of others, but every father wants to be the hero of his little girl.

If the situation were different, Rachel would have found it amusing to see an adult man, a seasoned soldier, who had faced dangers without even breaking a sweat, looking increasingly restless and nervous under the scrutiny of a five-year-old.

"Theresa, honey. Do you want to say anything or ask something to your father?"

"You are different from the photos. Why are you dressed in black?" Theresa asked Tom directly.

"Because I needed to camouflage myself. Do you know what camouflage means?" _Idiot, she's only five,_ he reprimanded himself. He was so shocked to see his daughter that he could not think of an explanation other than the truth. Pretty much the same thing that can be said of her mother.

"Camouflage is when some animals imitate the color of the place where they live to protect themselves from their enemies," Theresa recited smartly.

"Are you sure you're only five years old?" Tom asked wryly.

"I'm going to be six soon. Mummy promised me a special gift for my birthday, a dog. But if you're my special gift, I think you're better than a dog."

Tom bit the inside of his cheek, as if he was trying not to laugh. He looked at Rachel who seemed to be having a hard time not laughing too. "Thanks, Theresa."

"Are you going to stay for my birthday?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course, I would not miss your birthday for the world," Tom stated in a heartfelt way.

Theresa's eyes became big with excitement, but she remained in the safety of her mother's lap. As if the child was uncertain of what to do next.

"What is your friend's name?" Tom asks to break the silence, pointing at her toy.

"This is Nate; I have had him since I was a baby. I'm big now, but he's my friend," Theresa replied while facing Nate towards Tom.

"Friends are important, they should be kept close. I have a friend, his name is Mike, he…"

"Mike, the bear?" Theresa interrupted excitedly.

"What?"

"Mummy told me about him. He's big and strong, and loyal and scary at times, like a bear. We have code names for almost all of your ship's crew," Theresa said in a conspiratorial tone as if telling a great secret.

"Bear?" he raised one eyebrow at Rachel. "Just wait until he hears this."

"Don't you dare!" Rachel shot him daggers with her look.

"So, honey, what is my code name?" he asked Theresa. Leaning forward from his seat towards them.

"You are the Captain, you are always the Captain, because you command a ship and you travel all over the world," she replied but her face suddenly became sad.

"Theresa? What's wrong?" Rachel asked.

"Are you going to travel again, Daddy?"

"No, honey, I've come to stay."

"Why didn't you come to see me before, Daddy?" She asked in a timid tone. "Why didn't you want to meet me?"

Rachel opened her mouth to say something but no sound came out. She caused this suffering to the two people she loved most in the world. Hearing the insecurity and pain in her daughter's voice was almost too much to bear

 _Hell! It hurts!_ He had prepared himself for that question. Yet it was still difficult to deal with the realization that his daughter thought he had abandoned her. _The truth? Your mother hid your existence from me all these years._ He could not tell her this, in her world her mother had been the constant until now, her safe haven. And it should remain that way. _I was sick with sorrow and drowning in self-pity._ He would give her an interpretation of the truth he hoped could lessen the damage caused by his long absence.

"Because I was sick, very sick." His daughter was too clever for her own good, so he needed to be always one-step ahead. "I was on an island, there was no telephone, just an old radio, but it did not always work."

Those big, sweet, innocent eyes were wide-eyed with worry. "Are you ok now, Daddy?"

"Yes, honey, I am completely fine now, healthy as a horse, I promise," Tom assured Theresa with a gently smile.

"Do you like horses? Can you teach me how to ride a horse? I tried to ride alone, but Mummy was annoyed ... but she also does not like it when I climbe up in trees, it was just in the low trees, I cannot not reach the big ones yet…

He already has white hair, but it is likely that he will be bald in the near future. He had forgotten how it was around a child, their energy almost inexhaustible, an insatiable curiosity, speaking at a mile an hour and changing the subject with a surprising rapidity. How not to love it?

He looked at Rachel and saw her eyes with unshed tears. She moved her lips without making a sound, but he could understand the words. _I love you. I love you too,_ he whispered back.

They had to talk about what to say to their daughter. She would certainly have other questions, and they needed to be prepared to deal with the situation.

"My grandfather Ronald says that climbing trees is not a lady thing, sometimes he's a little grumpy." Theresa covered her mouth with her hands, "Ooppps! I should not have said that, but I like him anyway, and…"

"Theresa, slow down, you're scaring your Daddy," Rachel cautioned her daughter gently.

"I do?" She asked. Then she shook her head, disregarding her mother's words. "My Daddy's not afraid of anything."

"All people are afraid of something, Theresa, including your old Daddy here."

"You're not old, Daddy, Mummy said your hair was already silver when she met you."

"True! But because of your mother, I almost went bald…"

"Huh?"

"Your mother sometimes made me want to pull my hair in frustration, she is a fearless woman." The little girl had a confused expression. "It means that your mother is too brave for her own good."

"My grandfather Ian says my Mummy is the smartest and bravest woman in the whole world…" Then the little girl frowned. "Are you afraid of storms, Daddy?"

 _How many grandparents does she have?_ From what he knew, Rachel had no other relatives. He definitely needed more information.

He looked at Rachel over their daughter's head, knowing they were both remembering that night. The night they had made love. He remembers every detail of that night; it had been wonderful beyond imagining.

"No, I like them. Why?"

"Mummy is afraid of storms, sometimes she cries when it happens. Sometimes I sleep with her to help her, but now that you're here, you can sleep with her."

"We can both protect your mother, what do you think?" He asked gently as he rose from the chair and knelt in front of her, his right hand extended.

"Daddy! Your hand is bruised," she said, her little hands holding her father's hand.

"It's okay honey, your Daddy's a tough guy," Rachel says giving her daughter an affectionate hug. "But like me, sometimes he needs a hug, too."

Theresa leaned forward from her place on Rachel's lap and wrapped her arms around her father's neck. Closing his eyes, he squeezed her tight; enjoying the feel of her fine hair against his cheek, loving the sweet smell of her skin, nothing in the world smells as good as a child. His baby.

"I love you so much, sweetie." he says, moving away a few inches so he could look at her face.

"I love you, too, Daddy. Your hug is good like Mummy's."

A sob caught in his throat and tears flooded his eyes and coursed down his cheeks unchecked.

Theresa slipped completely from her mother's lap to the arms of her father.

"Why are you crying, Daddy?" she asked, reaching up to stroke his cheek

"Because I'm happy."

"Huh? Should you not be smiling? You adults are funny…" Theresa said with a cute frown.

He tucked some loose hair behind her ear. "Yes," he chuckled. "You're right."

"I like it better when you laugh," she says, wiping the last tears from his face, "and I also like your hair. I want mine to be like this."

"Your hair is beautiful like this; you inherited the best of us, beauty and the intelligence from your Mummy and my sweet and charming personality."

Rachel snorted with a roll of her eyes.

"You said he was sweet, Mummy," Theresa says looking over her shoulder at her mother.

"Out of the mouths of babes." He said, amused.

"Theresa, I think you and your father should sit down. In this position he must have cramps in the legs."

The little girl's mouth dropped open, her eyes growing wide. "Oh! Hold Nate for me, Mummy."

"Come on, Dad, I'll help you," the girl says, holding her hand out to him. As he stood up with his daughter's help, he left out an exaggerated painful groan as he felt his joints crack.

"It will be okay, Daddy," she says, patting his knee, "my legs also slept once and it felt like they were full of ants, but after that the pain went away."

"Thanks, honey," he said as he kissed his daughter's nose making her giggle.

"Mummy is a doctor; she can help you feel better."

"She already has," he said looking at Rachel and back at his daughter. "You, my angel and your mother are all that my heart needs."

"I want to show you something, Daddy, wait here," she says, her eyes glowing with enthusiasm as she ran to the stairs.

"Stop there young lady," Rachel stated, her words freezing Theresa mid-step. Rachel had that look that all the parents improve as the children grow up. The look that says, you are in trouble, the look that children fear and cannot ignore.

Rachel knelt to be at her daughter's eye level, "What did I tell you about using the stairs?"

"Running on the stairs is dangerous, I should not run on the stairs," Theresa said as if reciting something back that she had heard a million times before.

"That's right….and?"

"Muuummy!"

"Theresa!"

"Sorry Mummy, I will not do it again, I promise," the little girl says with her sweetest and most innocent look.

With a silly grin on his face he watched the exchange between mother and daughter, thinking that if that look was directed at him, it was very likely that he had already said yes to all the child's demands.

"I love you, dear, I just do not want you to get hurt," she says caressing her daughter's cheek.

"I know Mummy." Shifting restlessly, she asked, "May I go now? Pleeaaassse…"

Holding the laughter that threatened to escape his chest, he realized that Rachel was not completely immune to those big, innocent blue eyes begging for something.

"Okay…go."

Rachel sighed heavily and sat down next to him again.

His face split into a wide smile. "She is lovely, and as beautiful and obstinate as her mother."

"She has your eyes; it's almost as hard to say no to her as it is to you. But someone has to say no to her, because I have a feeling that you will be very bad at it."

"What gave you that idea?" He asked and he added with a malicious grin. "Sweetheart…"

The bastard knew exactly what he did to her heart in uttering that word in that particular tone.

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late!" he whispered against her mouth, kissing her lightly. Rachel sighed. Then he was pulling away, an pleased smile curving his lips.

"Two can play that game,Tom."

She's adorable when she's pretending to be pissed off.

"I know, but I always play to win," he replied smuggly.

Her eyes flashed defiantly. He felt the exploring touch of Rachel's hand against his chest, trailing down his torso…she was playing with him, teasing him. He sucked in a breath, let it out slowly. He knew she would do nothing, not with their daughter around. As if reading his thoughts she bent over him and whispered in his ear. "Sometimes a woman likes to be on top."

He pulled away from her as if he had been burned.

 _Damn, she's good!_ One of the reasons he loves her. She is always able to surprise him.

"What were you saying?" she asks with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Give me a minute," he said. Words other than that were beyond him at the moment. He forced to regulate his heavy breathing. His mind still overwhelmed by the images her words had awakened in his mind.

"Remind me never to challenge you on anything!" he finally said. "Do you know what she wants to show me?"

They heard footsteps on the stairs.

"We'll know soon enough."

In her excitement, she ignored her mother's warnings and ran down the last steps of the stairs, her small feet almost flying to reach her goal as quickly as possible.

She smiled brightly at him and said, "Open your hand, Daddy." He did as he was told; she laid a necklace in the center of his hand. She opened the oval-shaped silver locket and showed him the two pictures that were nestled inside.

"See, I always had a picture of you with me."

Inside the locket was a picture of him dressed in his navy white uniform. He recognized the picture, it had been taken in Norfolk, before his departure for the Arctic. It looked like it had happened in another life, so much had changed since then.

"Mummy said: _I remember thinking how handsome he looked in his uniform and what stunning blue eyes he had, blue eyes that you have inherited, he can charming when he wants, but your father can be stubborn like a mule…"_

He gave Rachel a sideways glance and he could swear she was blushing.

"Takes one to know one," he softly told Rachel.

 _Their daughter was spilling all the beans, it was disconcerting. His ego sure didn't need any more stroking, he knew exactly what effect it had on her. Well, she seemed to have a similar effect on him, this would be an interesting and satisfying game for both._

"And this is me and Mummy," he had already noticed that part, Rachel was pregnant in the photo, her hair was up in a ponytail, she wore a white tunic, sweatpants, and slippers, her eyes were closed, her head tilted to the side as if she were listening to something, a sweet smile on her features, as her hands rested protectively on her protruding belly.

"Mummy gave it to me, she says so we'll always be together. Now that you're here we'll be together for real."

"Thanks for showing me this, honey," he said as he draped the necklace around her neck. Then he asked, extending his arms to her. "Come here."

Without hesitation, the little girl crawled on her father's lap, resting her head on his chest.

"I love you and I promise you I'll never leave you again."

Theresa smiled at him, looking very happy. "Okay, Daddy! "

Gently, Tom rubbed the little girl's back, enjoying the rhythm. He had done it so many times in the past, cradling a child in his arms, that the movements came back almost instinctively.

He imagines what it would have been like to have been present during her pregnancy, watching her body slowly transform to accommodate the life that grew inside her. _How many months of pregnancy did she have in this photo, 6 or 7?_ If he had interpreted correctly, perhaps the baby was moving, and that gave the enchanted look on her face.

"Seven."

Seeing the confused look of her daughter, Rachel decided to elaborate. "Your father was asking himself how many months into my pregnancy I was when the picture was taken."

"How do you know that?" Theresa seemed suddenly very excited. "Can you read his mind?"

Rachel and Tom exchanged an amused look.

"No. Sometimes when we have known someone for a long time, we can understand what the person is asking without needing to speak."

"Ah!" She said, looking disappointed.

"Would you like your mother to read your mind?" Tom asked Theresa gently.

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. She motioned for him to lower his head so she could tell him something. Intrigued, he lowered his head at her request. "Sometimes I think she can," whispered Theresa in her father's ear. "She knows things."

He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the laughter bubbling in his chest at bay.

"That's because she's a sorceress," he whispers back, very dramatically.

"Tom!" Rachel says with false indignation.

"You're funny, Daddy."

He could feel his daughter trying to bury herself deeper into his arms, snuggling up closer his warm embrace.

Rachel observed as he gently rubbed Theresa's back and smoothed her hair, then he kissed the crown of her head. Theresa yawned sleepily and closed her eyes. He smiled fondly at his daughter.

"So, Rachel, do you have other powers I should know?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but instead she yawned. "Sorry," she said. "It's been a long day, or night, whatever it is now."

"I think you and this princess here need to go to bed."

"I don't want to go sleep, Daddy. Never. Ever," Theresa declared sleepily

"We are all tired." As if on cue, he also yawned. "You can sleep on my lap and then I'll put you on your bed, what do you think?"

"Can Daddy and I sleep in your bed, Mummy? Your bed is big and it fits all of us. You let Cameron sleep with you once."

"Who?" he asked with a dark frown.

"Cameron is Ronald's wife," she explained.

"Right!" One of the grandfathers his daughter had mentioned.

"I think we can do that, just for today, you're a big girl now and you have your own bed," Rachel told Theresa.

"Okay…." she said, a big yawn escaped her and she cannot keep her eyes open anymore.

"Come on," Rachel said, "I'll show you my room."

"Wait! Let me stay with her just a little bit longer."

"Sure."

She closed her eyes for a moment and realized just how tired she was, both mentally and physically. She had never doubted what kind of father he would be. Loving, kind, protective. Seeing them together finally touched something deep in her heart. As if a missing piece has finally snapped into place. A warm feeling that spread from her heart and warmed her like nothing else could. Then a slow smile curved her lips, because he is singing, she realizes, his voice is very low and very soft, but he is singing a lullaby.

" _Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky…"_ He paused for a moment as if trying to remember the lyrics and then continued. " _As your bright and tiny spark.. Lights the traveler in the dark, Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle… my little star.."_ He's certainly not the best singer in the world, but it's the sweetest thing she's ever heard.

After another moment, Tom looked up. Rachel was watching him with a smile on her lips.

"You know, you really are a big softie under that tough exterior, aren't you?"

"When the kids were little they would calm down when I held them close to my chest and sang to them, or maybe they would recognize my voice, or the fact of walking around the room while doing this, or maybe it made them feel cozy and safe, I do not know, but most of the time it worked."

Her throat constricted painfully at the sweetly wistful note to his voice.

 _I miss them._ He didn't speak the words, but he didn't need to.

"You okay?," she asked softly and reached out to caress his cheek.

"I am now. A part of me will always feel this emptiness, but I feel like I can be happy again."

Rising carefully so as not to wake Theresa in his arms, he whispered, "Show me the way."

Her bedroom was like the rest of the house, cozy, a harmonious blend of stone and wood.

"Let me get her necklace off first." Carefully she removes the necklace from her daughter's neck.

With obvious reluctance, he puts his daughter on the bed. Rachel placed the teddy bear in Theresa's arms who instinctively hugged the toy. He then sat down beside her and watched her sleep. After a few quiet moments he kissed her forehead and whispered, "Sleep well, my little angel."

He watched her as Rachel walked to the other side of the bed, and removed the robe.

"Which side of the bed do you sleep on?" she asked, her voice sounding as sleepy as her eyes.

"I don't have a favorite side," he says as he removes his watch and puts it on the night table, and then does the same with his belt.

She sat down on the bed, watching him.

He continues to talk as he sits on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes and socks. "For much of my adult life, just sleeping in a bed was already a gift from the God. So I never had a side that I preferred."

This is so new, their being together, going through the motions of getting ready for bed. _It feels right. It feels natural. It feel so... domestic._ Her throat tightens at the thought and the implications of all this, they are not only friends, lovers for a night, they are a couple from now on.

"What?," he asked as he notices her stunned expression.

"It's just, I… you… us, everything looks so ... I don't know," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Real…I guess….."

His face softens and he gets up and then he sat on the bed next to her, pulled her into his arms as he rested his back against the oak headboard. "It's real. I'm not leaving you ever again." She snuggles against his body, burying her nose in the hollow of his throat.

"We will have our whole lives to know each other, soon you will know all my faults, like the fact that I snore..."

She laughs, her breath tickling his neck. "You do not. I already slept in your arms before, remember? Twice."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead instead, letting his lips linger on her skin, as his hands roamed down her back in long, soothing strokes. "How could I forget? The first time I was mentally exhausted and in the second physically relaxed.

"Maybe I can help again," she murmurs sleepily, moving on his lap, as if seeking a more comfortable position. He made a moaning sound low in his throat. His mind is tired, but his body was decidedly wide awake. It's been a really long time…

"Professionally speaking of course."

"You can play doctor any time with me, sweetheart."

"Mmmm," she hums with her lips against his throat.

She sighed contentedly, her head nestled on his chest, and fell asleep almost instantly. His eyes slipped close as he wraps her tighter into his chest, inhales the delicate fragrance of her skin, enjoying the sensation of having her in his arms. Nothing could be more perfect than this, holding the woman he loved while their daughter slept beside them. _God! He could definitely get used to this._ Until the insistent need to visit the bathroom poked its way into his consciousness. He tried to ignore the demands of his body but it was useless.

He gently disengaged himself from Rachel's embrace. She protested in her sleep as if sensing the loss of the source of heat and rolled to the side. When he returned a few minutes later, he smiled when he saw the little girl nestled with her head in the mother's chest, while Rachel had a protective hand around her daughter's waist, pulling her closer to her body. He just stood there unmoving, just watching, enchanted by the image of the two sleeping. No longer alone, he has a family again. He crawled back into bed, pulling Rachel and Theresa closer to him, his daughter sleeping safely between them.

SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH

He woke up being gently shaken, half-awake and half-asleep, extremely pleased to stay exactly where he was, it took a while to realize who was insistently calling him. He cherished the feeling of waking up in bed with Rachel and Theresa. He felt contented and at peace. Despite sleeping only for a few hours, it was the best sleep he's had in a very long time.

"Daddy, wake up," Theresa whispered to him.

"Sleeping," he answered without opening his eyes, a happy smile playing on his lips and then he rolled over, onto his back.

"Daddy, are you awake?," she asked him innocently, pulling away for a brief second to listen to his answer.

"Hmmm. No," he hummed.

"But you answered."

"I talk in my sleep," he mumbled sleepily. Wondering what she will do next.

Still with his eyes closed he felt his daughter's hands on his face.

"Daddy..."he heard the laughter in his daughter's voice. "Daddy, open your eyes!"

He opened his eyes and smiled lovingly at his daughter "Your wish is my command, my princess."

"Come on, Daddy, Mummy is still sleeping and I'm starving!"

A movement from his peripheral vision caught his eye, and he turned his head before he could stop himself. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Rachel stretched like a cat, then her eyes closed again, murmured something unintelligible, and curled deeper into the blankets. _Not a morning person huh?_ He thought, amused. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, he saw that it was just after seven. It was his first time to wake up with Rachel beside him.

He turned his attention to Theresa. "What do you want to eat?"

"I want pancakes for breakfast, with lots of chocolate chips, syrup and…"

Rachel couldn't escape to notice the enthusiastic voice of her daughter even though she pulled the cover up to her chin and buried her head in the pillow.

She yawned and said in a groggy voice, "It's too much sugar for breakfast, Theresa."

"Mummy, you're awake, too! ," Theresa said cheerfully.

Rachel opened her eyes and smiled at them both. "Good morning, sweetie," she says hugging her daughter before leaning in to kiss Tom on his lips.

"Good morning, Tom."

"Good morning, my love," he said softly. He placed his hand gently on her cheek rubbing it with the back of his fingers. He looked into her brown eyes, and then to the daughter who looked at them with a smile on her lips. "I had forgotten how good it is to wake up like this."

Rachel kissed him again. "Good morning, my love."

"Everybody has said good morning, can we go now?" Theresa asked impatiently from her position between them.

They both laughed at their daughter's impatience.

"It looks like we have a grouchy and hungry bear here. I think I have a solution for that," he said as he reached out to tickle his daughter's stomach. Theresa burst into giggles.

"Noooo... daddy…" she squealed and giggled loudly. "Hahahahahahaha... stop...daddy…"

Her daughter's crystal-clear laughter filled the room, her eyes glittering happily as she played with her father, and he looked at her with such tenderness that Rachel's heart seemed to explode in her chest.

He laughed lightly and tickled his daughter's stomach once more, then let her go.

"Are you going to make my breakfast now, Daddy?," Theresa asked between breaths.

"Determined!" he laughed. "It seems that my lovely little princess inherited her Mummy's best quality!"

"Or worse," Rachel murmured under her breath.

"Honey, go brush your teeth first and wash your face, okay? I will follow you in a while."

"Ok, Mummy. I'm so happy you're here, Daddy! This is the best day in my whole life," she said, before jumping off the bed and running out the door to her own room.

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?" Tom asked Rachel in wonder.

"No, you're not," Rachel said as she leaned towards him and brushed her lips against his. "Do you feel it?"

"I'm not sure," Tom said, laughter in his voice. "I'm still not entirely convinced I'm not dreaming."

His heart raced as she kissed him passionately, her fingers trailing through his hair, her breasts pressed against him.

"Mummy," Theresa called out, "I need help with my hair."

She broke off the kiss, a laugh bubbling in the back of her throat, and tried to dislodge herself from him arms. "Tom, let me go."

"Never."

"Mummym…"

"I'll be there in a minute, honey," Rachel called out to Theresa.

With obvious reluctance he released her, not without first giving her another kiss. Rachel reluctantly disengaged herself from his arms and went towards Theresa's room.

SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH SCOTCH

A few minutes later, Tom found himself downstairs investigating the kitchen. He could hear mother and daughter talking and laughing upstairs. With a smile, he went on to gather the ingredients for pancakes. He was alerted to Theresa by her light steps coming down the stairs. His heart melted when he saw his daughter coming down the stairs. A smile split his face from ear to ear. She was wearing a yellow dress, her brown, braided hair was put back with a matching ribbon, her necklace around her neck as she moved, rosy cheeks and a radiant smile. She looked like a little ray of sunshine. His little ray of sunshine.

Theresa sat down at the kitchen table. "Are the pancakes ready, Daddy?"

"Almost," he said, pouring her a glass of milk. "Where is your mother?"

"Mummy will be down soon. I think a vampire bit Mummy last night, she has some strange marks on her neck," Theresa told Tom.

He controlled the smile he wanted to make.

"Vampires doesn't exist, honey."

"So what bit Mummy?" she asks, taking a sip of milk.

"Mosquitoes," he replied with a straight face. "With really big teeth."

"Mosquitoes do not have teeth, Daddy," she corrected him.

She laughed. He smiled back. Her musical smile, bringing light to the dark corners of his soul. He had told Mike that he was too broken and too bitter to be a good father, but ever since his eyes saw his daughter for the first time, the memories and feelings that came with fatherhood came back easily. He found himself doing and saying things just to see her smile.

The scent is one of the most powerful triggers in memory. The sweet scent of cinnamon spread through the kitchen and floated to the second floor of the house. Rachel closed her eyes and memories of the days that they spent together came to the surface with surprising clarity. She could hear father and daughter talking over the breakfast table.

"Of course you would know that, Mummy told me you like insects."

"Butterflies," Theresa said enthusiastically.

"Why butterflies?" he asks as he opens one of the cupboards to get the plates.

"Because they are strong, beautiful, colorful…Mummy said that when I was born a butterfly came into the room. I think they like me."

Suddenly he remembers many years ago on the island when he was working in the orchard and a blue butterfly landed on his finger. _No! That was impossible._ Just a coincidence.

Theresa went on with her stories to Tom. He lapped up every word that his daughter is saying.

"Grandpa Ian said that the blue butterfly means joy, beauty, can bring luck and grant wishes. I like swimming, drawing, Mummy is teaching me French and Spanish, she reads stories for me every night. She is reading now for me, Le petit prince…"

" _Je t'aime plus que tout au monde, Theresa."_

" _Je t'aime aussi, Papa."_ Her eyes widened and her little face glowed with excitement. "Do you speak French, too?"

Using a spatula, he transferred two pancakes to a plate, cut a few pieces of banana, some blueberries and added the syrup that he had made.

"Sorry, honey, but no, that is the longest phrase I know and my pronunciation is atrocious anyway."

"It's okay, Daddy," she said in a comforting tone. "You can teach me Russian and I teach French to you."

"I would love that, princess."

"Be careful, it's hot," he warned when he sat the plate in front of her, with the fork on the side. Then he sat down and took a sip of his coffee, watching her eat the pancakes with gusto.

"Slow down, honey, the food will not run away," Rachel said as she entered the kitchen.

"Mummy!" Theresa mumbled around a mouthful of pancake.

"Do not talk with your mouth full," Tom and Rachel said together. They shared a loving smile over their duet.

"These are so good, Daddy cooks as well as you, Mummy!" Theresa declared after swallowing a bite of pancake.

"Does your mother cook?" he asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

Rachel smiled and walked to the cabinet to get herself a plate.

Theresa responds after eating another piece of pancake. "Yep! Mummy makes the best chocolate cake in the whole world."

"I think I'm in love," he joked "I LOVE chocolate cake!"

Rachel rolls her eyes with exaggeration. "I thought you were already."

He did not need to know that she had only learned to cook after Theresa's birth. She got herself three pancakes with a generous serving of syrup.

He got up from the table and joined her at the kitchen counter. Then he cupped her face in his hands, made her meet his gaze. "I love you, Rachel," he said in the husky voice he knew drove crazy. "You know I love you, right?"

She smiled at him in smug satisfaction. "I know, Tom…" Her smile grew and she briefly kissed his lips. "But I like to hear you say it."

"Ah, Rachel…" he said on a long exhale. "I can show you how much."

"It's going to be a very long week," she whispered against his mouth.

He laughed. "You know how to stroke a man's ego."

"That's not what I meant, Tom."

He cocked his head to the side, clearly confused.

"'I'll explain later," she says, patting his arm as she passes. "Don't worry, when the time comes... I will be gentle with your ego, I promise."

He laughed again, a contagious sound that warmed her heart.

"What's so funny, Daddy?"

"Your mother makes me happy," he answers, grinning, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Can I have some more pancakes, Daddy?"

"Of course, my princess."

"With lots of syrup," she requested. "I'm growing, I need more energy to grow."

"She is good," he says, looking at Rachel.

"She is your daughter. Good negotiation skills."

He grabbed her plate putting two pancakes on it. "Here, honey."

"Do you want some coffee or juice?" he asked Rachel. "Or tea?"

"Coffee, please."

"Not tea?" Tom asked Rachel.

Rachel gave him a smile, "Not today. I need the caffeine after the lack of sleep."

He poured her a cup and his, then delivered one to her, and sat down at the table again. He poured a generous syrup on his stack of pancakes and dug in.

"So.. how did you find us? Blake did not tell you, I'm sure of that. Our meeting was scheduled for around 11 am."

Agent Blake Phillips, impeccable suit, perfectly neat blond hair, even after hours of travel, and an annoying tendency to think that Tom should obey his orders.

"No, but our host, Amabel Blanche, was kind enough to tell me where you lived, practically offered me a map. She said something about me being lost for too long."

Amabel owned the only hotel in the city. They were different like the moon from the sun, but they had become fast friends over the years.

"It seems like something she'd say."

"Aunt Amabel always give me ginger snap cookies when I go there," Theresa added to the conversation.

"She offered me those cookies, too. She is ..." he seemed to look for the right word to describe her. The woman could even be considered pretty, with flaming red hair that fell in ringlets down her back, bright amber eyes. Easy smile. But the way she looked at you, as if she could see the deepest corners of your soul, was disconcerting and frightening.

"Believe me, I understand the feeling." Rachel said. "She knew I was pregnant before I told her."

"What are we going to do today, Daddy?"

"Whatever you want, princess, but first I need to return something I _borrowed_."

Rachel looked at him questioningly.

"It's almost two hours to get here, I needed a car. I left without saying goodbye. By this time they must have realized that I have _disappeared_. I'm actually surprised they have not called you."

"They'll be here soon."

"Unfortunately," he said under his breath.

Inside his little bubble of happiness, he had forgotten the world outside. It had been practically a week of negotiation between the British and the US governments that their meeting had been scheduled. Rachel was afraid someone else would know about her whereabouts, especially some members of the press. During all these years she continued working, monitoring to avoid surprises in relation to the cure. She was an important asset for the government.

Mike would understand why he had left, but the agent who had accompanied them to the city, would not be too happy to find out that he had sneaked off in the middle of the night, taking his car.

"We have practical decisions to make, Tom."

She looks at their daughter and he follows her gaze. Innocent, happy, protected from the outside world. Being their daughter will carry a weight, which she should not have to deal with, but unfortunately it was something they could not change. It was only a matter of time before the press learned of her existence.

Rachel said, her expression fierce, "We have to protect her."

He stood up and enfolds her in a familiar, snug embrace. "We will."

"Mummy?" she asked from her seat.

"Yes, dear?"

She had finished eating and was now playing with Tom's leather gloves.

"Am I still going to Grandpa's house today?"

"Do not worry about it, it's likely he'll be here soon, we can tell him about the change of plans."

"Yay! You'll like grandfather, Daddy." Theresa said enthusiastically. "So, we can go horseback riding?"

He moaned internally.

"Are you sure you do not want to do anything else?" He didn't have to feign the pleading tone. "Your mother must be more qualified than I am for this." He pictured Rachel galloping along the beach while her hair fluttering in the wind. His fantasy was broken by his daughter's voice

"Mummy doesn't like horses."

"Really?"

Theresa was trying to put on her father's jacket, laughing when she realized it was too big for her.

"I like horses, baby, what I do not like is when you try to ride them alone. Do not look so disappointed, Tom, the fact that I'm English does not automatically make me a skilled horsewoman. "

"I'm not disappointed, Rachel." She raised her eyebrows. "Okay, maybe just a little."

They heard different voices outside, followed by a knock on the door.

"I'll go open the door," Theresa cried, excitedly.

"Wait!" Tom and Rachel said at the same time. Together, they went to the door with Theresa right behind them.

With the door opened, Theresa peeked from behind her Daddy. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Wow! Everybody came to visit us all at once…"

"Hi! You must be Theresa."

* * *

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